


part 12.

by hdarchive



Series: Heartstrings Verse [13]
Category: Glee
Genre: Angst, M/M, Nerd!Blaine, Sexual Content, Skank!Kurt
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2015-03-01
Updated: 2015-03-01
Packaged: 2018-03-15 20:56:38
Rating: Mature
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 24,502
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/3461726
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/hdarchive/pseuds/hdarchive
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>He'll never be afraid again.</p>
            </blockquote>





	part 12.

**Author's Note:**

> Well, this is it. Months of frustration and tears and writing and rewriting - and it’s done. The first fic I ever posted here on tumblr, and the first verse I ever completed. Thank you so much to my friends who never stopped supporting and encouraging me. Thanks to everyone who's ever sent a message about this verse. None of this would be possible without you.
> 
> Sorry for taking another century, and sorry for making it so long. I hate endings.
> 
> Ps. [These](https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=uy291WL2TxU) [ two ](https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=UbEVzpdOlVg)songs were used heavily for inspiration while writing this.

Everything feels right.

The pieces are put together. Dreams haven't shaken everything up. He wakes up and doesn't feel dread and he doesn't have to remember how things really are, how bad his world really is.

Because it isn't. Things are -

Okay.

He hears breathing that is not his own, soft and quiet, and he feels Blaine pressed against his back.

Then he remembers that things aren't just okay, they're so much more. Because why else would Blaine be right next to him? Things were okay yesterday, when he was struggling with every step. Things were okay because he told himself they had to be.

This is so much better.

Kurt tries to turn over without shifting the bed too much, careful to keep his breathing calm even though his pulse is crackling in his ears and he kind of just wants to - squeak or yell or something -

What if they both just ignored it. He's happy now, he is, because things are better -

If they both just ignored the damage? If they could both rewind time, they would. If they could both do it over, they would. So doesn't that mean they can look past this?

But he guesses, things are better but he was still stabbed in the side and hurt. And he can't do it anymore, he can't live each day holding onto one piece of pain, can't keep walking with glass shards in his side.

Waking up next to him today is far different than the last time this happened. He'd wanted to run and erase every memory from his brain but simultaneously wanted to relive them - and today he just wants to be closer.

And this time he can allow himself to be closer.

Kurt slowly moves his hand, slightly numb from falling asleep on it, and touches Blaine's shirt - technically, it's his shirt, but he didn't want to give back the one Blaine gave him - and tries to remember that he is allowed to do this. He can feel like this, he can feel as much as he does and it doesn't have to hurt anymore.

But maybe yesterday, when Kurt didn't want to wake up and Blaine did . . .

He knows exactly how that feels. It's a miracle he doesn't feel it today.

It'd be selfish to pull him from his dreams, to welcome him back into the unfair world that's shaken up his life. So he leaves him sleeping, and covers Blaine's shoulder with the blanket.

Sometimes he likes morning. Right before the sun starts to shine and people start to wake up. He's been alone for so long, but being awake before the world is so entirely different from loneliness. It's a few moments of clarity, where he can breathe and not have to worry about breathing the wrong way. He can just - be.

The living room is dark as he enters it, careful not to trip, cup of coffee held tightly in his hands. He sets it down on the coffee table, grabbing the blanket off the couch and wrapping it around himself before sitting on the ground.

He's not a good thinker. He tried to plan his life, tried to have control, tried to hide himself and he had it all thought out - and it went up in his face. He could plan this. He could try to figure out what the hell he's going to say to Blaine but - he can't handle it again. Can't really handle having that blow up too -

He's been hurt, all he has to do is close his eyes and he can be taken back to that exact moment. The walls surrounding him were rainbow, his heart metallic, each and every single star was visible even though he really couldn't see them, and he was going to say - and then it all fell apart.

You could plan and plan, write it all down and swear by it, but the thing is, he's never been able to control how he feels about Blaine.

So he could be mad, he thinks he still wants to be mad - but last night he wasn't, last night he didn't have a say in how he felt, he just did.

He sips at his coffee, a little too sweet and still too hot. It's far too early to try and process thoughts, to put together pieces, but he tries. He's accepted his fate. But Blaine, it wasn't fate, it was his future. Blaine’s always been aware of his every footstep and has had it all planned out - and it still blew up.

It's strange. How they stood on completely different planets but when Blaine's collapsed, Kurt felt a tug at his ankle too.

But maybe they aren't as different as they look.

Floorboards creak and footsteps quietly sound through the living room. Kurt swallows too much coffee in one sip, sucks in too much air because something needs to calm the jumpstart to his pulse.

He knew he couldn't plan this, knew he'd feel things beyond his control, but he really didn't expect to want to jump with excitement and feel silver sparks in his nerves.

Blaine tiptoes into the edge of the living room, squinting to see, fumbling around the furniture before Kurt whispers, "Over here."

Pushing his glasses up, Blaine rubs at one eye while he yawns. Voice low, sleepy and slow, he asks, "What are you - how'd you get down here?"

Over his cup he mumbles, "Couldn't sleep."

"Oh," Blaine says, sliding his glasses back in place, turning to look around the living room. "Did you - would you like for me to go?"

He'd say yes but why on earth would he ever say yes?

"No - no, of course not."

He pats the spot on the floor next to him, smiles when Blaine sits down.

And he doesn't know what to do, tries to calculate his next breath but it's so hard when Blaine's arm brushes his and he just wants to be closer.

Lifting his arm, he raises the blanket so there's room for Blaine.

"How long have you been awake for?" Blaine asks, pulling the edge of the blanket so it's draped over both of them.

Kurt shrugs, swallows a sip of coffee and brings the mug against his chest. "The sun still isn't up, so a while I guess."

Blaine grins, exhales a laugh and ducks his head.

"Actually," he says, voice gaining speed, momentum, sounding more _excited_. "Technically the sun is always out, we just can't always see it. The thing about the sun is that at any given moment, it's always shining. Do you know how hot -"

He knows this tone of voice, he fell in love with this tone of voice.

And he can't stop from grinning back, eyes closing and laughter burning bright in his chest. He jabs at Blaine's side with his elbow, mutters, "I _just said_ the sun isn't up. It's too early for this."

Blaine's elbow nudges back, but it doesn't move away. "Well, I am your tutor."

"Oh, god, no -" he spits, still smiling. But his stomach feels like it's buzzing and he thinks his ears are turning red. Focusing whatever strength he has left into steadying his hands, Kurt raises the mug and offers it to Blaine. "Coffee?"

Blaine’s nose crinkles, a flash in his eyes as he stares at the coffee like it's wronged him, straining his neck back, and voice twisted in his throat, Blaine asks, "Are you not worried about germs?"

The tone of voice he fell in love with - and Kurt tries to not stare, tries to not show it, tries not to smile so goddamn wide -

"We've shared a lot more than coffee," Kurt says back, glaring in a way that he knows doesn't look the least bit menacing.

Blaine laughs, a shot of light through the dark, and takes the mug from him, bringing it to his lips.

But these are all words that skirt around the edges, careful of the jagged shards sticking out, never getting to the center where they are so desperately needed.

He just isn't sure what to say - the wrong thing could set off a bomb and they're already struggling to keep together.

Licking his lips, lowering the mug and sighing out his breath, Blaine blinks, blinks again like he's not sure what he's looking at - and his mouth falls open like he wants to say something but he's scared of tripping over the wire, setting it all off -

"Do you ever - do you ever wake up and -" Blaine sighs again, breath shaking, setting the cup down to free his hands, pushing them through his hair. "You know when you wake up and you can't believe yesterday happened? And you just want to - sleep forever?"

He wasn't even aware he was lined with these trip wires - but there they go. Memories and distant feelings, buried deep but still freshly painted, all sparking back up and flaring -

Throat tight, mind flat on the ground, Kurt feels his lungs and tongue freeze but he manages to say, "Yes - I - yes I do."

"What do you do?" Blaine continues, voice lost to the floor. "I - I feel like I don't know where I'm going. Like I never will -"

And he has - he does feel like that. To open your eyes and blink at the ceiling and pray for it to come down on you just so you don't have to get up.

Strength can simply be smiling, and so that's what he does. It's the honest truth, words that come out like oxygen - "It only feels like that for a while."

Blaine twists to face Kurt, and his eyes are wide open, looking and seeing -

Couldn't handle the way Blaine looked at him before because he didn't know what he saw - and now he knows what he wants Blaine to see but he's so scared that he doesn't.

There's a spotlight on his face, golden and shining in his eyes and the only audience is Blaine.

“Kurt, you should know that - I - I thought I was smart,” Blaine starts to say, defeat threaded through his voice, tipping his head low. “I thought I was good enough to get in, I - I thought I was smart.”

Every word sounds wrong, against the grain, his mind filled with grey clouds that he can’t shake out. “You are -”

Blaine grabs his hand, thumb swiping quickly, but it's not to calm Kurt's heart, because his isn't racing - and Blaine's eyes are wide, awakened, pinned to his as he begs, "No, let me finish, please?"

". . okay."

Blaine inhales, squeezes Kurt's hand before continuing, "I thought I was smart. I should be smart. But if I were - well, I would have known, right?"

He's waiting for it to hurt - to pierce like ice or burn like fire.

Not following, expecting a blow to the chest, Kurt blinks and shakes his head. "Known?"

"I would have known that you'd never do that. I should have been smart enough to hear a lie and not believe it."

"When - when did you realize this?" he asks, slowly, afraid -

And Blaine's voice is wavering, but paving all the cracks in the foundation that Kurt stands on as he says, "I've always known, haven't I? And that's why I'm an idiot - because I knew you were afraid, and you have every reason to be afraid, and I know you and I still believed her -"

There's no such thing as a defense when the number one weapon against you is touching you, wedged into your heart and so necessary to your system that you'll malfunction without it.

No defense, no denial can save him from this, and it's just him, his voice, his torn apart rib cage, and Kurt whispers, "It really did hurt."

It made his system stop, it made his system start differently.

It was a different kind of pain. It was turning bright metallic love into something dark and heavy.

It was more than hurt.

Blaine never looks away from him, breathing quiet and faint.

"I knew that, as soon as I said it." Blaine sounds strong, but then he cracks, a hysterical line driving through his voice as he laughs, hands waving in front of his face. "I know you said - you said it only felt like that for a little while but I still hurt you - I - I hurt the person I -” He breaks off, takes a breath and wets his lips. “I really really like you, Kurt. I'm supposed to be smart and I don't have any words to describe how I feel except for _really, really_ -"

His system is a spinning wheel, faster and faster and it could land on anything - he could win or he could lose, he could feel good or he could feel -

He's never smiled like this before.

Should lock it up, hide it, but he has no defense and no control, and he really doesn't care.

Because he does. Kurt does have words - much larger than _really, really_.

“I thought I had to face the fact that you didn’t like me as much as I liked you, I guess. I hate that for one second I even doubted it -”

Kurt swallows, blinks and breathes and tries to function with his pulse blaring loud in his ears, so he doesn’t even hear it as he says , “But you know now.”

But he knows now -

"I do - I do - please know that," Blaine says with defiance, a head shake, a dim smile. "What I did was wrong, I can’t believe I was that _stupid -_ ”

If he looks at this from Blaine's side - he can't see everything because he doesn't know what Blaine sees but he relates to what he feels and he feels -

"Blaine."

Blaine looks up, sad turn to his eyes, smile fighting its way forward. "Yeah?"

He's felt what Blaine feels. He knows exactly what it's like to hate your existence, to not know what to do, to want to fade, to come close to feeling colours and being washed away in grey.

To feel stars, to see stars, and to have them all burn out, one by one.

Until he's left with nothing.

And he's still here. He's breathing just the way he needs to. So doesn't he know how to live through it and doesn't he know how to come out intact?

“I think . . I think if you know now, and you realize how - how much it hurt, then I think it’s . . okay.”

Blaine reaches out to touch the sleeves of Kurt’s hoodie, searching for his hand, and he asks, “. . . because you learn from your mistakes?”

"Yeah, or learn from whatever - whatever you feel," Kurt says, voice winding down, mouth twitching to the side. "You are smart, Blaine. But nobody knows everything."

And stars don't burn out that quickly. Your planet orbits further away and they're a bit harder to see but he's closer now.

"I'm so sorry, please know that."

Words don't match their definitions, Kurt's been telling himself that - but these aren't just words.

He opens his hand, let's Blaine's slide in.

"I know that."

Some things do fade. Hurt and pain become apart of you and make you who you are because that's what you grow from, but - bleeding red becomes translucent and what you see instead, what you feel instead -

What you feel instead is multicoloured and shining and bright.

And so much heavier than hurt.

Blaine tilts his head back, huffs out his breath and squeezes harder at Kurt's hand.

“And when I opened the letter, it didn’t say what I needed it to say. But I thought, I don’t know why, but I thought - seeing you would somehow make it feel better. But then I knew you didn’t want to see me, and that scared me more than the letter, Kurt. I did something to you that I couldn’t - I can’t take back or make better, and I just want you to be better -”

He thinks he tries to laugh but it comes out as a strangled choke, a faltering smile. "I think - I am. I have to be."

Hasn't he been telling himself since he first fell down that -

You could be okay if you just let yourself be okay.

“I’ll do anything to make sure - _I’m sorry._ ” Blaine shifts on his knees so he's directly facing Kurt, and he says, quietly, "And if there's ever a moment where you don't want to see me, I understand."

Smile pulled by a magnet, Kurt feels energy in his bones and his veins and he points his gaze to the ceiling, shrugging because it's all he has the strength to do.

"I don't think I can do that."

I've tried to do that. I felt this and wanted to deny this and I felt this and wasn't allowed to feel this - and I feel this and if you feel it too, then hurt really is just something we grow from.

He's never -

Doesn't plan things out because they blow up in his face but he's been waiting for a moment - but he doesn't know how to say this.

"Because I - I really like you, too."

The world doesn't fall, his lungs don't explode, time passes as it always should.

And Blaine beams, laughing like he can't believe it, nudging Kurt's side, bumping his shoulder and teasing, "Not really, really?"

Kurt laughs, scoffs and shoves him back with one hand. "Okay, lets not push it."

If this is what it feels like to stand without fear - then he never wants to be afraid again.

Letting go of his hand, he reaches for Blaine’s jaw and last night they touched in a million different ways and it felt like a million different things but somehow it did not feel like this.

Kurt leans into it, the whole world is awake and he doesn't care, closing his eyes and closing them out and kissing Blaine, just wanting to be closer.

He can't deny it. He never could. He never will again.

It'd be a lie, because there's a strange rhythm to his heart, screaming a beat that he wants Blaine to hear -

_Really, really, really._

-

"I can taste each individual chemical that's in here."

Kurt looks up from his bowl of cereal, meets Blaine's eyes and sharpens his glare. "Lucky Charms won't kill you."

Blaine lets out a harsh laugh, snapping his head in disagreement while swallowing another spoonful.

"Mm, oh yeah, nothing beats the taste of trisodium phosphate," Blaine hums, lifting his spoon up and raising an eyebrow.

He tries to roll his eyes, wants to roll his eyes but - instead he laughs, feels his eyes shut tight and his nose scrunch up, not a single muscle in his face under his control.

"Oh my god," he whines, shaking his head. "Is it possible for you to go five seconds without being a huge loser?"

Blaine's foot finds his under the table, nudging at his toes and kicking him. And when Kurt opens his eyes, he's almost afraid to look. Because he knows what he'll feel and he knows what he'll see, and it's scary to think - he's allowed.

He was hoping they wouldn't start fighting so soon after making up but apparently even breakfast is difficult for Blaine.

"I'm only looking out for your health, Kurt Hummel," Blaine says back, keeping his foot along Kurt's. "Sorry if that makes me a loser."

Red along his cheeks, Kurt mumbles, "Well, maybe I'm used to it."

Blaine's grin twitches, a flick of a switch, darker and -

"Morning, boys."

Lost in Blaine's eyes and his smile and Kurt didn't hear footsteps, didn't hear the stairwell creek, so when he hears his dad's voice his spine jolts and he slams back in his chair, the tiny world he's been living in with Blaine all morning suddenly popping.

"Dad!" he yells, pulse flatlining. "Um, what - I thought you left early for the shop."

His dad trudges through the kitchen, slippers dragging against the floor, robe trailing behind him. His laugh comes out deep, tired and worn, and he hollers over his shoulder, "It's Saturday, Kurt."

Kurt glances at Blaine, who's dropped his spoon and has his hands folded on the tabletop, and he can feel his foot tap a nervous rhythm against his.

"And I smelled coffee," his dad adds on, indicating towards the coffee pot.

Before he even realizes what's happening Blaine is pushing his chair back, standing up, smile flicked on.

"Oh, let me get that for you, Burt!" Blaine exclaims, voice a note higher.

Kurt latches onto his wrist, yanking him back down.

His dad turns around, lips pressed tight in an amused line. "Blaine," he says, raising his mug.

"Burt," Blaine greets back, and Kurt knows every one of his smiles and this one stirs panic in his stomach. "Did you have a good sleep?"

If there's anybody listening, smite him, smite his dad - don't let this continue for another second.

Kurt smiles tightly, kicks at where he thinks Blaine's legs are now, turns so his glare stabs at him.

His dad slowly strolls over, pulling out the extra chair and sitting down.

"Very restful," he exclaims, eyebrows raising. "Didn't hear a _thing._ "

Kurt's wanted to disappear before but now he doesn't even want to exist - bright heat burning at his face, mind going up in flames.

He never even thought -

He wants to die he really wants to die and Blaine -

Is staring wide-eyed at the table, biting hard on his lip.

"Okay, great," Kurt breathes, expression blank. "We’re going to go now -"

"Now wait a sec, I haven't seen Blaine in a while," his dad says to them, frowning as he lowers his coffee. "How you doing, kid?"

Blaine straightens his back, lifting his chin and showcasing the most genuine smile, eyes alive like they've never held pain.

Kurt thinks - he's worn a defense for so long, built so many walls, anything to be okay.

But Blaine only has to smile and maybe Blaine is better at this than he is.

Like it's the easiest thing in the world, like it's nothing but the truth, Blaine says, "Perfectly well, thank you."

His dad nods, switching his eyes from Kurt to Blaine. "And how's school goin'?"

The thing about being hurt deep down is that most people don't know you are - and they have no idea that what they're saying is jabbing at your insides, needles in your heart, and the thing about living in the real world is that you can't protect yourself from that.

Kurt looks at Blaine, afraid that his dad set something off, but Blaine’s still smiling, tilting his head to the side and says, " _Great_.”

But Kurt knows Blaine's smile.

"Dad," he snaps, already reaching for Blaine's hand. "Can we - we're going to my room."

"Actually, Kurt, I should go." Blaine uses his free hand to gently peel Kurt’s fingers off, stands and then turns to Kurt's dad, smiles politely and - _bows_. "Pleasure to see you again."

Disappointment wells up in his stomach, sinking his heart like a stone, because he knows Blaine doesn't really want to go, but he's in a pain that Kurt can't help with.

He follows him through the living room, to the front door where Blaine is slipping his shoes back on.

"Wait, Blaine, you don't have to go," he pleads, reaching back for his hand. "My dad is just - he doesn't have a clue what he's on about."

Under Blaine's gaze, defeated and deflated, Kurt squirms and tightens his grasp.

"No, I really should go. Need to face the music sometime, right?" Blaine sighs, squeezing back. "Besides, I haven't brushed my teeth since yesterday, and that hardly seems fair to you."

Kurt's laugh gets caught in his exhale, soft and scratching. "Just imagine all the cavities you’ll have."

"I don't even want to think about it," Blaine shudders. "My worst nightmare."

Could it really be this easy? Why did it ever have to be hard?

Easy as smiling, easy as breathing, easy as leaning forward and wrapping his arms around Blaine's neck, pulling himself forward until his chest is against Blaine's chest and their bodies click together like two broken pieces.

“It'll be okay."

Kurt steps back first, smile nervous but reassuring, holding onto his elbow as they move towards the door.

I don't know how, or when, but it will be.

It becomes a part of you, and you keep going, living with the pain and you do get heavier, it does get harder, but you live like it doesn't hurt -

Blaine must be reading his mind, or seeing something that Kurt must be shining with, because he looks back after stepping out the door and says, "It has to be, right?"

\- and for that you become stronger.

-

Blaine leaves and Kurt forgot where he left his life off at.

What was he doing before Blaine showed up again?

And how does he go back to a life of going through the motions just to get through his days when suddenly - his days are different.

For the first time in a month he feels weightless, like he can breathe and live without carrying around a lead anchor. Like the second the words left his lips, everything fell into place, back on track, and now all the planets are spinning properly.

He braves his way back into the kitchen, because if Blaine is facing the music, then so can he.

His dad is sitting at the table, newspaper laid out in front of him, the fact that he isn't really reading it obvious once Kurt steps into the room.

"Safe to assume he isn't your tutor anymore?" his dad murmurs, sipping at his coffee and turning the page.

Kurt grabs his bowl of cereal, walks to the sink to rinse it out. Throat coated in steel, backbone made of rock, Kurt says, "Doesn't take a genius to figure that one out."

His dad makes a noise, a gruff laugh, and Kurt looks over his shoulder to watch him shrug, still leafing through his newspaper.

"Gonna miss those weekly progress reports he was always calling me 'bout."

Kurt drops his head, whatever fight that was building in his bones evaporating. "Oh god."

"Or maybe I should get him to keep 'em up."

He moves back to the table, thumping down in a seat and crossing his arms over his chest. "I can't even tell if you're joking or not."

His dad grins, and he _really_ can’t tell.

"I'm just kidding," his dad laughs, but the wattage of his smile dims until he's - blank. "But is everything okay?"

Kurt narrows his eyes, tightens his arms and forces his voice out stronger. He says with a shrug, "Fine."

Raising both eyebrows, mouth tugging at the corners, his dad leans back in his chair and asks, "If everything is fine then you wouldn't mind telling me how he got here?"

Oxygen turns into something solid, like swallowing cement, and Kurt is stuck between desperately needing to inhale and wanting to drop dead to the ground -

"He, um, needed somewhere to go."

Mimicking the way Kurt holds his arms, his dad covers his chest and nods along. "Why's that?"

Facing the music - and this isn't even Kurt's life, he has no right to be scared, but his voice shakes as he says, fiddling with his thumbs, "Remember how he was going to Yale? Well, he didn't get in."

His dad's eyes widen, as if trying to process what he's heard, exhaling harshly.

"Wow."

"I - I know, it doesn't make sense."

"But it's just a school," his dad says, sounding like a question. "Smart kid like that can go anywhere else."

Which Kurt knows. But he also knows - to think you're there but you're not, to think you're good but you're bad - and once you've been branded as bad the bar of limitations crashes on your head and you think you'll never go higher.

"It was his whole plan though," Kurt sighs. "He had this life all figured out - and now he doesn’t.”

His dad shakes his head, expression pulled in and pained, lines of his face sour.

"He's a kid. Ridiculous that they expect you to have this figured out by now."

Drained, life gone from his veins, strength removed from his spine, Kurt lowers himself to the table, face pressed against his arm, and nods weakly. "Yeah."

"Guessing you don't have any idea what you want to do?" his dad asks, forced hopefulness loaded into every word.

He still wants to know what his dad even sees. Not giving up when Kurt gave up, holding on for Kurt when he was too weak to. And Kurt knows he's lucky because for a while he had no direction, invisible and passing through life, and his dad never pushed him in the way that he wanted.

And maybe his dad really did know it was him all along.

So it's with a sad twitch of his lips that Kurt says, "Not a clue."

But his dad - his smile comes in so effortlessly that Kurt almost envies his ability to just - shrug it off.

"Ah, that's okay," he says, almost fondly. "You know, when I was your age I thought I'd be a pilot. And your mom, she wanted to be a dancer."

Kurt frowns, peering up at his dad, but his smile fights its way out, peeking from the corner. "Really now?"

His dad's laugh is loud and bright, an explosion of light, and it's impossible to keep his smile small when he hears it, warmth down to his toes.

"True story. And I never would've imagined owning a garage, but - that's the thing. If it's what you're meant to do then you'll do it."

So long ago now, a memory torn apart and burned, Kurt remembers when his dad suggested getting a tutor, and Kurt didn't need help, he didn't, he wasn't stupid -

If only he listened to his dad back then.

"You're telling this to the wrong person," Kurt mumbles, smirking.

His dad shrugs, flips his newspaper back up in front of his face, and says, "I got a feeling the right person will hear it anyways."

-

Kurt sits with his back straight, hands folded together in his lap, trying his hardest to not smile - do not smile this is not funny do not freaking smile -

Blaine looks over his shoulder, eyes flashing from behind his glasses, eyebrows drawn together.

"I don't want to hear a single word of negativity," Blaine grumbles, turning back to the record player.

Tight-lipped, smile straining tight against his barricades, Kurt shakes his head and says, "You won't."

"Oh, is that right?" Blaine asks, dragging the words out, then stands up to hand Kurt the album sleeve. "Because I distinctly hear a mocking tone in your voice."

Music fills the room, loud and pinging and picking and pulling at all the nerves lining Kurt's body.

"I swear!" Kurt laughs, using the album to smack at Blaine's arm. "What is this even for?"

Amusement is bright bubbly pink in his stomach - and he finds that with Blaine, he feels things in such neon, screaming loud colours -

Then Blaine starts to - Kurt thinks it's dancing. It's spinning, that's for sure.

The bubble of amusement bursts and Kurt _cackles_ , covering his eyes as his chest shakes -

"Hey! Laughing counts as negativity!" Blaine squeaks, bounding towards the bed that Kurt's sitting on. He rests his hands on his knees, pushing down and leaning forward so his face is inches away, and Kurt's open mouthed grin seems to spread onto Blaine. "And it's for glee club. They're picking out songs to perform at prom."

Amusement and whatever else he's feeling edges away, receding into his deep corners. Snapping his mouth shut, lips twitching to the side in a scowl, Kurt looks away and crosses his arms over himself.

He hates being dragged this way and that - by something he can't control, something that chooses how he feels. When he wants to smile, he can't, because that storm cloud in his chest can't quite process the fact that he really has nothing to be afraid of anymore.

He picks the album back up, music still blaring away in the background.

"Don't get your hopes up on this one then. I don't think you'll survive the night if you sing something from . . Shalamar's greatest hits . ." he mutters, reading over the cover.

Blaine scoffs, shaking his head, pushing away from Kurt to move along to the fast-quick-lightning current of whatever song is still playing. "You underestimate the power of disco."

Don't smile don't laugh this isn't funny -

"No," he says, scowl disintegrating, "No, I really don't."

Blaine spins, catches Kurt's eyes, and raises his voice above the music. "Okay, well, how about Quincy Jones?"

"How about something from this century?"

"That's offensive."

Kurt laughs again, and he thinks that he's been alive for a while now but he's laughed more in the past two weeks than he has in his whole life.

He knows he's moved over the jagged mountain of denial, because now when his heart beats a little harder he doesn't try to stop breathing - he walks forward instead of backwards, and everything feels so much easier when he's not out of breath.

But he twists his hands together tightly, looks down at them instead of at Blaine, because he is still new to feeling like this, and he doesn't know how to express it, really.

"You know," he says, hooking his fingers nervously, pulling them away, tracing a pattern over his palm. "I've never heard you sing before."

Blaine stops dancing, pushes his glasses up and heaves out his breath, pants, "You could come to a glee club rehearsal, maybe."

With Blaine actually looking at him, words in the air, Kurt's insides go tight, guarded, and he jerks his head quickly and looks up at the ceiling, nails now biting at his palm.

"No, no - I can't do that," he says, throat constricting, words sharp.

Feelings for Blaine are bright, glittering, but fear is dark and full of thorns, latching on and locking -

"Hey," Blaine says, even and loud. "It's okay, don't worry."

Kurt claws at his hand and blinks quickly, forcing his smile as he mumbles, ". . stupid to be so scared . . it makes you so happy . ."

"No, Kurt, it isn't stupid. You have your reasons," Blaine counters, folding his arms and staring at the ground. "And it does make me happy, but so do you. And - I don't have much left now, I don't want to mess anything else up."

His smile fades in easier, looking back down and catching Blaine's gaze. "You won't. You're too good."

He watches as Blaine's laugh shakes out with his exhale, as he bites over his grin and says, "You've never even heard me."

Fear is gone, fear never existed, fear was black in his gut but now it's been replaced with stars - "If something makes you this happy then I don't think you can be bad."

He should try to reel in his expression, spread across his face and shining.

Do normal people do this? He hasn't ever been around people long enough to find out if they laugh this much or feel this much -

Blaine sucks in his breath, gives his head a shake, walks over to the record player and shuts it off before turning back to Kurt.

"I think previous events have proven how untrue that is," he says, sadly. "It’s funny. Being in that club - even if it was only humming along in the background - it made me a lot happier than studying ever did."

Courage isn't a colour he can feel. No words to describe it except for a surge of power that blows up his heart, makes him speak his thoughts without transferring them through a filter.

" _Well_ ," Kurt starts, keeping his hands close to himself. "Maybe it wasn't what you were really meant to do then."

Laughter is the colour of sunshine, but when Blaine laughs nothing glows - it's forced and fake and drained of all emotion. With a sad roll of his eyes, Blaine scoffs, lowly, "Yeah, obviously. Or else I'd be _good_ enough."

Something cold strikes through Kurt, piercing his stomach and flashing cold in his glare.

"I think you’re wrong.”

"Of course I’m wrong - I’m always wrong -”

Kurt holds out his hand, waits for Blaine to take it, pulling him closer to the bed. He doesn't even have to think it through, just knows what he's going to say because courage is propelling him forward and there are no more black spots in his brain -

"It can't be about . . being good enough," Kurt says, playing with Blaine’s hand. "Because if I applied to that school, there's not a chance in hell I'd get in, right? And am I - am I not good enough?"

Blaine's eyes are wide, a nebula of colour from behind his glasses, a galaxy of feeling -

"Kurt . . "

Kurt lifts his chin and swings Blaine's hand, and the words have already been lined up for him, he just needs to say it. "It's just not what I'm meant to do."

Blaine doesn't say anything, doesn't make a noise, keeps his eyes trained on their joined hands.

"You are very smart," he sighs, smile back in place and shining like it’s meant to.

Kurt says with a shrug, "I learned from the best."

Do normal people have hearts that want to sing and do normal people breathe this way -

"Sure you did," Blaine drawls, grinning wickedly, but like all good things, it dims. “But what about you? We’ve never talked about what your plan is -”

Kurt snaps his mouth closed, insides pulling tight, locking up against his will to try and defend himself from whatever Blaine’s implying.

“I don’t really want to talk about it.”

He says he isn’t afraid anymore and he isn’t, but when he’s reminded that the future in front of him is bleak black clouded chaos - fear brushes a reminder, a warning, against his heart. And he’s been ignoring it, waiting for it to go away -

Blaine smiles again, and says, “That’s okay.”

Manages to breathe, lungs untwisting, “- thank you.”

No more filters no more denial just all the colours he's feeling and seeing and the power of courage -

They lean forward like their minds are working on the same track, chasing after one thing, reaching the same destination. Eyes closed, hands wringing tightly together, Blaine meets him there, and it still drums against his ribcage in a strange pattern that he gets to do this -

For the longest time he's been trying to place a colour for this.

Always brought back to the first time, their first kiss, and then - that was when the world was spinning mad and crazy and out of control, not one colour but a million, and maybe -

It still is.

They kiss and it still is.

Kurt falls backwards, hits the bed with his back and Blaine quickly follows, overtop of him but never stopping.

Blaine leans back for a fraction of a much too long second, carefully takes his glasses off and places them on his nightstand, unties his bowtie, and then dives back down and cups Kurt's jaw, thumb brushing along the corner of Kurt's lips.

His mouth fits against Kurt's and the entire world gets fifty degrees hotter, Kurt's sure, and every desperate inhale only fills his lungs with poison.

But Blaine parts his lips and captures Kurt's, and who even needs oxygen when Blaine's tongue is -

Blaine’s hand disappears, and with nothing to hold him down Kurt tilts his chin up to get more, more of everything and anything - and Blaine grabs his hip, sprawling his fingers out and curling in.

Kurt isn't sure what to focus on, just keeps - kissing and not breathing, all while Blaine is hitching his shirt up, up over his stomach, skin hot on Kurt's skin.

Kurt lets him.

It's like Blaine knows everything and he's trying to teach Kurt, or maybe like - control is a tangible thing and Blaine is holding it.

Tingling and jolting and sparking from his lips to his ears to his heart, Kurt tries to chase Blaine when he pulls away, but his mind is too blank to do anything besides suck in air.

And then Blaine is breathing hard over his neck and shit and fuck and fuck and he thought his mind was blank before but now it's broken into pieces and blindingly white -

Kurt lets him.

If he could hear anything besides his pulse he's sure he'd hear his wrecked breathing, Blaine's breathing, and he's sure he'd say words he can't say yet, and when Blaine takes his hand away again Kurt's left with an ice cold spot where Blaine just was.

Blaine touches Kurt’s belt, just barely, almost afraid but not even knowing, thumbing at the buckle like he's deciding what to do.

Muscles and bones are a molten mess and not nearly strong enough to push him away, so Kurt lowers his arm and reaches out for Blaine's wrist, wrapping around it and pulling it away from his belt.

Blaine jerks away like Kurt's burned him, stomach sucking in and chest rising and falling as he gulps in air, staring down at Kurt with his eyes a glowing green fire.

"Sorry -" he gasps, "I don't know what I was thinking -"

Kurt smiles. Faint, but if Blaine really sees him then he hopes he sees -

His voice rasps, and he sounds broken but he isn't, because he know what he wants - and Kurt asks, "How far . . how far do you want to go?"

Blaine's wearing his smile of gold, the kind that makes him hear music when there isn't any playing, the kind that makes time slow down and makes his respiratory system fail -

"I want to go everywhere with you."

Kurt -

Laughs, or maybe - giggles, he doesn't know. Just makes a noise that shakes in his chest and bubbles in his throat. Pushing at Blaine with one hand, covering his eyes with the other, Kurt laughs again and says, "You shouldn't be allowed to talk."

Breathy laughter over Kurt's face, Blaine whines, "You asked!" and pinches his stomach, leaning back over and pecking at his lips - urgency and heat replaced with something sweet.

When your vision isn't clouded with fear, you really see a lot more. See what you've been seeing all along -

He’s always wanted this -

"Okay, w-we can -" Kurt tries, stumbles over words because he doesn't know what to say first. "So you really want -"

He's not one to believe in romance and waiting, not anymore. Because you can love somebody and they might never hear it, so what's the goddamn point in waiting? If you trust someone then -

Blaine grins, but he's shaking now, and when Kurt grabs his hands and pulls him down again there's something thrumming under Blaine's skin - but it isn't fear.

Kissing each other but it's not frantic, it's not I need you so much right now, it's really _I can't believe we're doing this._

It's too much, is what it is.

And every thought and feeling he's been cataloging since he met Blaine is trying to burst free, dragged out by his kiss and his hands tangled in Kurt's hands and nothing is holding them back and Kurt tries not to but he -

Moans.

Muffled by Blaine's mouth but still loud, echoing in his ears, and even though every alarm is going off and his body is turning red, it takes Kurt's mind a second to catch up with what's happening because it feels so good -

Then he does catch up, and he realizes what he just did, and red turns into fire in his face and embarrassment is a monster trying to eat him alive. Kurt turns his head, bites over his lip so Blaine can't kiss him, and closes his eyes tight.

"I didn't mean - didn't mean to -"

There are no words that can save him from this - and why is he even embarrassed when it's Blaine and he wants this with him -

Blaine drops his forehead to the side of Kurt's, chuckles nervously and murmurs, "Hey, no, you don't - It's _me_ , Kurt."

And it's Blaine. And he can't believe it's really Blaine.

And that's why he feels nervous jolts in his stomach and pins in his smile -

Because he's done it before but it's never been Blaine.

"I know," Kurt says, shy despite his best efforts, looking at anything but Blaine. "I'm just -"

"Are you scared?"

" _No_ \- a little." Kurt splutters, pulse picking back up. "I've never done it with somebody that I actually want to do it with."

He's done it before but - and he didn't know what he was doing, or why, and he thought that was it -

Didn't want it the way he wants this, never thought he'd want every piece of someone else to connect in every part of him.

"Well - well, I really want to do it with you, too, Kurt," Blaine babbles, swallowing hard and wetting his swollen lips. "But if you - if you're scared then we can wait. I-I don't want to scare you anymore."

Relief swells and bursts in his chest, calming his breathing, his mind.

Only scared because it's giving up control and giving away all your trust and feeling so much - and he's done it before but not like this.

Kurt sits up, something blocking his throat as he tries to swallow. His face hurts from holding his expression, set in stone, trying his hardest to not do something stupid like - cry. Twisted and quiet, he chokes out, "Thank you."

Blaine bumps into his side, and he pecks Kurt's cheek in with a kiss.

"Not to mention the fact that I know you have a history paper due tomorrow that you've yet to start. No time for fooling around."

Kurt laughs, leaning into Blaine and fiddling with the ends of his bow tie. “You can drop the tutor act now.”

"I wish I could," Blaine says, reaching to hold Kurt's hand, pulling it into his lap. "But - so, um, if I'm not your tutor, what exactly am I - what are we?"

Kurt locks up, hand twitching where it's trapped between Blaine's.

"I -"

"You don't have to answer."

Somebody he really likes kissing, somebody that he wants to be around and doesn't really want to be apart from.

Somebody he loves but doesn't have the skills to translate that into words.

"I don't have a term for it," Kurt mumbles, swallows and fidgets and shrugs, as if moving around will shake the words out of him.

It's not denying if he really doesn't know how to say it -

"That's okay."

But he wants it, he's so tired of not having it - he needs to say _something_.

So he thinks, and when it hits him he says, "But we're something. Is that alright?"

Casting a shadow over Venus, eclipsing the sun, Blaine smiles and says, "That's perfectly alright, Kurt Hummel."

Their fingers weave together, tighter, closer, and it's amazing that there was a time where he was afraid of this, too.

"Something is better than nothing."

-

He doesn't know why he's nervous. No reason to be nervous.

But the bell rang a few minutes ago and Blaine still isn't here, and Kurt's sitting on the hood of his car waiting like an idiot, twiddling his thumbs, chipping at his nail polish and scanning the parking lot at every sudden noise.

There's nothing anyone can do to him anymore. They can look at him, and maybe there are people who want to push him and control him and tell him what he is and that it's wrong - but when you get shoved through a hurricane and you come out alive, rain doesn't really affect you.

So if somebody looks at him for more than a second, he really doesn't care.

And he waits, because the only thing he's nervous about is that Blaine is late -

"You're not skipping, are you?"

Kurt jolts, shock climbing every knob of his spine. A jump-jump-fall pattern has settled in his stomach, and he sucks in a breath to calm it.

Quinn stands in front of the car, one arm folded across her stomach, the other holding a cigarette away from her face.

Bile doesn't raise in his throat, venom doesn't sting his tongue, and he's able to smile weakly at her without forcing it.

He's not mad. He understands now that every person comes with their own line of self defense.

Shrugging, mouth curling to the side, Kurt reaches into the pocket of his jacket and pulls out the sticky note that Blaine left on his locker. "Blaine asked me to meet him here."

The smirk that Quinn always seems to be wearing fades, a question mark appearing over her face.

"Oh," she says, tapping at her cigarette, tilting her head to the side. "So you guys are -"

It spreads naturally, a small smile that he doesn't dare hide, and he nods, mumbles, "We're good."

"I'm happy for you."

It doesn't sound like a lie.

"Thanks."

It doesn't sound like a lie at all when her smirk returns, wicked fire in her voice as she says, "So . . Hummel's got himself a boyfriend."

Strange that he doesn't feel nervous about that word but it still lights him up, a matchstick against his spine.

Heat along his cheeks, burning up his smile, Kurt quickly spits out, "No, we aren't - that's not what we are."

He's staring back at his hands like they're the most interesting things in the world, can't look at her when she already knows what he feels, like she's reading his mind, picking apart every thought and discarding them to the ground.

The hood of the car creaks as she raises herself up, boots thumping against the metal, side brushing Kurt's.

"So," she drawls, pointed look pinned to Kurt's face. "Let me get this straight. You tell me you love this kid, he breaks your heart, you act like the world is ending - and you still can't call him your boyfriend?"

He knows what he feels, he doesn't need another person out there to tell him it's wrong.

"I don't need to."

Quinn sounds astounded, words an echo of shock, and she yelps, "Have you at least told him - ?"

He laughs uneasily, mixing with panic and strangled in his chest. "Why do you care so much?"

" _Because_ -" She waves her hands, flicks the cigarette to the ground, and when she laughs, it's stripped of amusement and filled with - defeat. "Guess it's time to admit I'm a jealous bitch."

It's not what he expected, sitting wrong in his gut.

Lift of an eyebrow, smirk pulling at his mouth, Kurt nudges her with his elbow. "Admit?"

Quinn bumps him back and snaps, "Oh, shut up -"

He remembers what she used to look like, what she used to be like, but he doesn't remember when she became this, or why. Everyone has their reasons, everyone has their defense, and everyone has a weakness that can turn them grey.

"You're not a bitch," he sighs, nudges her again so she looks up, and tries to smile. "I don't know how you feel or anything but - I guess, uh, I guess you just do what you have to do to survive."

He remembers what he used to look like and what he used to be like and he knows why he became this -

You can't control the weather but you can protect yourself from it.

Quinn quickly ducks her head down, smile hidden but there, and mumbles, "Well, here's to surviving."

He breathes, a lock he didn't even know he had clicking out of place. "Yeah."

Quinn's playing with her dress, black with tiny blue flowers, flowing down to her knees. It's then that Kurt realizes he's been nervously twisting his scarf around a finger - and it's so hard to believe that this, sitting awkwardly and not saying much, was the base of their friendship for years -

"Almost done, can you believe it?" Quinn asks, turning her head and meeting his eyes.

Kurt shrugs and says, "I can't."

She rolls her shoulders back, stares up at the sun. "It's funny. When I started high school I thought I'd graduate and be prom queen - don't laugh - and then I'd go off to college and be so super - _successful_. Didn't think I'd be leaving covered in stretch marks and - I'm trying not to sound like a sob story here -"

She never opens up, and neither does he, but even if the base of their friendship is rocky and uneven, there's been no one else there until now -

Quinn shakes her head, breathing like she just lost everything she's been holding back. "But what about you? What did you think you were gonna do?"

Kurt swallows, stomach twisting, and he lets go of his scarf and braves touching the back of her hand.

"I don't remember,” he breathes.

Her hand is cold, not like Blaine who is always warm -

She hangs her head, faded pink hair falling across her face. "Maybe I've just been making desperate attempts to get it back."

Kurt hums, eyes her curiously, and he's never even tried to see her before, really, but now he's being given a chance.

"But get what back?" he asks, not used to the tone of his voice, reinforced with steel. "Something you never had?"

Quinn’s laugh is drained, and she mutters, “ _Buzzkill_.”

He leans back on his hands and tips his head, thinks, so many things to think, so many things to say, now that he’s been given a book he needs to know how to read it -

“Sorry but - it’s too late for a lot of things, Quinn.”

She sighs, lips pressing together, and turns her head to looks at him. “Exactly. And I - I  regret not doing certain things, don’t you?”

“No,” he says automatically. “I don’t.”

If he could go back in time -

This is just who he is, and even if he went back in time and stopped himself from dying his hair and piercing his body and lighting that first cigarette, he’d still be this.

“Do you think that maybe after - people will stop caring and then we can just . . do anything?”

Pulling words out of some collapsed structure in his mind, Kurt breathes out, “Anything seems pretty far fetched.”

“Maybe.” Quinn nods her head, adds as an afterthought, “But you won’t go very far if you think you’re going nowhere, I guess.”

“That’s deep.”

She laughs and drops her chin to her chest, staring down her legs, knocking her boot against his. “I think too much.”

“Yeah, clearly. Get a hobby,” he smirks, knocking back harder.

She breathes in through her nose, holds it, and exhales. “But - so it’s not dumb that I want to go - far? Like far away from here?”

And she sounds nothing like herself. Scared and small and afraid and hopeful - and years of standing next to each other and all this time they could have been there -

“It’s not dumb.” He works his mouth into a smile, and hopes it carries all the words he can’t quite form right now. “Join the club.”

Quinn smiles back, and he can’t read it, but he feels it.

“We should go together,” she says, quiet and slow. “We should - we could do something.”

Kurt feels confusion pinch his face, drawing his eyebrows up and together, and he stammers, “W-what?”

She sits up, a flick to her lips and now she’s grinning, brilliant and alive and he’s not following -

“We’re almost done here, Kurt. If we’ve come this far then why not - we could go anywhere.”

“And do what?”

“I don’t know - _anything_.”

Hazel eyes tinted victorious, fixed on his, she says, “Think about it. We both hate it here, we have each other, we could do it. And your not-boyfriend could join us.”

He laughs, jokes, “What are we doing, forming a superhero group?” but then his eyes open wide,  jaw dropping, and he’s quick to spit out, “Oh god, don’t tell Blaine I said that, he’ll take it seriously -”

There’s a distant gaze to Quinn’s eyes now, and Kurt follows to where she’s looking as she mumbles, “Speak of the devil.”

You can’t train your heart to stay calm. You can tell it _no, don’t_ and you can try to breathe but it will still beat out a song that you can’t stop, can’t control -

When he sees him, Kurt grins.

Blaine’s got his head lowered, calculating his footsteps, arms behind his back and smiling at the ground.

Blaine steps in front of the car. “Hello, Kurt Hummel, Quinn Fabray.”

Kurt’s chest - lurches.

Maybe it was all so much easier when he hid this feeling underneath his bones, embedded in his organs, away from his brain and away from his heart.

Quinn sits up, pulls her leather jacket closer around herself with fumbling hands, looks between the two of them before asking, slowly, “Should I leave?”

Blaine quickly looks at her, as if realizing she’s actually there, and his smile fades but he says, “No, no. It’s okay.”

Then it’s back to Kurt, and Kurt’s probably imagining things but he thinks the rise and fall of Blaine’s chest cuts short, stops, Blaine visibly trying to get his lungs working again -

“Hi,” Kurt whispers, feeling light in the head.

“You got my note,” Blaine says, standing up on his tip toes, landing back down.

“I did.”

“Great,” Blaine breathes, still bouncing. “Fantastic.”

Quinn snickers, quiet and turning her head to the side, and Kurt’s pulled back from the hazy world, the one that builds around him whenever Blaine’s near.

“So what’s with the note?” Kurt tips his head to the side, noticing how much Blaine’s fidgeting with whatever he’s holding. “Blaine, what are you hiding behind your -”

Blaine takes a step back, laughs nervously and says to the ground, “I have a question I hope you can answer.”

Ice-cold lava-hot panic twists around his backbone, making him sit up straight, shoulders locking. “It’s not a question about biology or chemistry, is it?”

Almost fondly, sweetly, warm, Blaine mumbles,“No, not quite.”

Kurt frowns, hums, “O-okay?”

Blaine raises his head and meets Kurt’s eyes, and courage highlights his face, like fear has never held him hostage before, and he asks, “Kurt, as somethings, I’d like to ask you to prom.”

Then his arms are moving, and from behind his back Blaine holds out a bouquet of flowers.

The colour of every feeling he’s ever felt; purple, pink, blue, red, yellow, white - petals bright and breathtaking.

Kurt reaches out, not meaning to, takes them from Blaine and handles them carefully, bringing them to his face.

He hardly hears Quinn as she snorts, gripes, “Is he serious?”

Lost in the colours, still trying to breathe, Kurt sighs out, “Prom?”

They’re so lovely, and Blaine carried them around all day, for him - _for him_ \- and months ago, a lightyear away, Blaine gave him flowers just like these -

“I’ve been trying to come up with ways to ask you,” Blaine says, vibrating where he stands.

Kurt keeps the bouquet close, breathes in their scent and tries to filter out the black grime attacking his ribs.

“I don’t -” Try to be brave, try to take the leap because the landing on the other side is so much better - “Prom isn’t my thing, Blaine.”

If he could match a picture to the word confident, it’d be Blaine’s grin, the glow to his eyes.

Moving forward until he’s touching Kurt’s knees, seeking out one of Kurt’s hands, finding it and squeezing it, Blaine says, “I know. I’m asking you, Kurt, but we don’t have to go.”

Kurt tears his gaze away from the flowers, meets Blaine’s instead, and asks, “. . don’t have to go?”

Blaine nods, looking so stupidly happy that it hurts Kurt to look at him.

“I’m asking you because there’s no one else I’d rather ask. And even if you say yes, we don’t have to go.”

Kurt blinks, bites his lip, takes in the flower’s scent, and refuses to let mind-crippling fear flood his senses.

If they don’t have to go, then what is he saying yes to . . ?

If he says yes, then what is he admitting to -

“I -”

Quinn jabs him with her elbow, hard, and he spins to glare at her, heat in his eyes -

But she only smiles at him, indicates with her head towards Blaine.

The first step to going forward - is taking it.

“Okay.” It doesn’t sound real coming out of his throat, doesn’t sound right in his head. “Okay.”

Blaine exhales harshly, tightens his grip on Kurt’s hand. “Okay?”

And Kurt nods and closes his eyes, feeling like he’s midair, making that leap -

“Yeah,” he breathes, laughs shakily because his lungs feel like they’ve been detached. “I will - won’t go to prom with you.”

Taking his hand, taking the first step - it’s never been so easy.

-

They haven’t been to the library in ages.

Sitting in their old spot, Kurt trails a finger over the mark in the table that he continuously made with his pen, where he’d dig into the wood as he sat, tortured out of his mind with boredom.

Blaine is still studying and trying and trying even though he’s been told no. Final exams are coming up and Blaine acts like the world under his feet hasn’t split, that everything is going as planned -

He’ll never be as strong as Blaine.

Kurt looks over his shoulder, scans the library as best he can without getting up from his seat. It’s not like there’s anybody here to even see them, tucked away in the corner, but the last time he wanted to do this they were caught by somebody he genuinely fears with his life.

“Not still embarrassed to be seen with me, hey?” Blaine mumbles, glaring down at his book.

Kurt shakes his head, pushes his lips together as he says, “I’m keeping an eye out for Mrs. Edelman.”

Blaine strums his fingers along the pages, eyes still focused on the words in front of him. “- why -”

His actions don’t require second guessing anymore, he just does -

Leaning over in his chair, covering Blaine’s book with his hand, pressing himself closer and forcing Blaine to look at him, he whispers, “I don’t see her.”

He tugs at Blaine’s suspenders, Blaine squeaking as he’s yanked from his seat and pulled closer to Kurt. Nobody around to see them, not that Kurt thinks it matters right now, and he kisses him, fingers curling tighter where he’s holding Blaine.

Something in Blaine wakes up, coming to life, and he grabs at Kurt and deepens their kiss and for a moment Kurt wonders if they really have to part, why do they have to part, together is so much nicer -

Blaine pulls back, keeping his forehead against Kurt’s, breathes heavily over his lips, spit-slick and buzzing. “Actually - if we’re going to take a study break, can we talk about something?”

Kurt loosens his grip, heart turning into steel and thudding against his chest, desperate to break out. Eyes wide on Blaine, keeping his breathing even, Kurt says, “Yeah, of course.”

Blaine nods, bites over his lip, but doesn’t let him go. “I saw the guidance counselor today.”

“Oh.” He starts to pull away, holding on to Blaine’s hand like at any second it could be ripped from his. “What about?”

Blaine blinks quickly, chest heaving unevenly as he stammers, “I’ve been trying to just - act like things are okay. But they aren’t.”

Kurt closes his eyes and hopes Blaine doesn’t notice, squeezing harder at his hand.

Blaine continues; “I’m so tired of waking up everyday and not knowing what the hell I’m supposed to do now. So we were talking, and she showed me all these options that I could take. And it isn’t over yet, not if I don’t want it to be.”

Kurt forces himself up, opens his eyes and blinks, confusion a heavy blanket that’s settling over him. “Wait - what do you mean?”

Blaine grins, rocking forward - and Kurt knows each smile, he’s made up names for them -

“I can try again. I can go - I can go to community college maybe, and build up credits, or get an internship somewhere, and then apply again next year.”

It can’t be planet earth that they’re living on, because the world around him gets sucked up, washed away, it’s just gone -

And chewed up, spat out, a cloud of dust and debris.

Kurt tries to see.

“What?”

Blaine’s smile doesn’t reach his eyes, doesn’t burn like a star. It fades.

“My plan. It isn’t off, it’s just delayed.”

If he could, he wouldn’t. He’d stop himself from feeling - spite, lining his veins and surging hot.

He’d stop himself from snapping, “So you’re going to waste a year of your life trying again - ?”

Blaine’s face falls, shoulders sinking, snapping back with his voice spiked, “It’s not _wasting_ , Kurt.”

“Yes it -” Kurt snaps his jaw, turns to look in the opposite direction before he exhales. “I thought - is this what you want?”

Blaine’s plans blew up and it only proved to Kurt that even the most thought out dreams can die. Because they just weren’t meant to be. Thought that Blaine would figure it out anyway, and then so could Kurt -

And if this isn’t the wrong thing, if Blaine truly, really wants this, and is still trying to get it after being slapped on the wrist and denied - then Blaine is invincible steel, and Kurt is snappable plaster.

He understands that this is what Blaine’s been working towards all his life, but he thought he knew Blaine - and he thought he knew that Blaine didn’t really want this -

“Of course,” Blaine insists, breathing heavier, sounding angrier. “I’m just so sick of not knowing - and if I don’t do this, then what _do_ I do, Kurt? _Hm_?”

Not looking at him, Kurt spits out, “Whatever you want.”

It’s ridiculous. To think he could have done anything, could have gone with Quinn wherever and lived. No, of course not, you always need a plan -

If Blaine can’t figure this out, then how is he supposed to do it? If Blaine follows the wrong path, then what does he follow? And if Blaine is really following the right path, then how come Kurt has no clue where he’s going still -

“What is that then?” Blaine shouts, throwing his hands in the air, and the loss of his palm pressed to Kurt’s is a shock of cold air, stealing Kurt’s breath. “You don’t understand. I’ve always thought - I don’t know how to think differently. What else is there? My parents wanted - I wanted -”

No strength in his voice, Kurt has never been strong, he tries to yell but it comes out in a broken whisper, “You’re not doing this for your parents, are you?”

“No, but - I _don’t know_ what else to want.”

Voices vibrating off the walls, they both breathe, both have their arms crossed, but Kurt has his body angled away from Blaine’s. Silence sits strange in the air, settling over their skin like it doesn’t belong there, and Blaine breaks it, whispers, “What else is there, Kurt? I have - I have nothing.”

Kurt looks over his shoulder, weight pressing on his chest and making him sigh, “Maybe you’re too blind to your options because you’ve been too focused on this one thing -”

But Blaine cuts in, snaps, “ _Don’t_ talk to me about options, Kurt, when you haven’t even considered yours. What’s your plan, hm? What are you going to do?”

Chains wrap around Kurt’s arms, pulling tight so he can’t move, and Kurt cuts his own breathing off or else he’ll hyperventilate and pass out -

“This isn’t about me -”

“I - I care about you, Kurt, you know that. But you can’t prolong reality, and you know that too. At least I have a plan, you need to start preparing - Rachel was telling me that you loved music, and that you wanted to -”

The cloud of dust and debris wipes clean, and all that’s left is blank space, a white noise droning through his head.

And then -

He’s been ignoring it for so long. Knew it was coming, knew it was there, knew every day that he’s been waking up with a smile on his face that soon he wouldn’t even have a reason to wake up at all -

A sign appears. Large and bold, blocking his path.

No exit. Dead end.

Stop.

He blinks fast, tries to take steps backwards to avoid the sign but it’s everywhere, all around him, can’t avoid it now - he isn’t going _anywhere_.

Kurt stares at the table and tries not to fall when he realizes the ground he’s standing on is really a trapdoor.

Too late.

“Shut up. Stop - stop talking,” Kurt gasps, fights for his next breath, can’t control it anymore - “I didn’t ask for you in the first place, and I didn’t ask you to talk to Rachel about me - shut up, I can’t - I have to -”

He was going to be okay. He just had to keep going - take the first step forward. Why can’t he take it, he just wants to take it, he doesn’t want to be scared anymore -

There is no step forward. He is going . .

He isn’t going anywhere.

Kurt stumbles out of his seat, shaking as he collects his books, the library a whirl of muddled tones, Blaine getting lost somewhere in the mess.

But Blaine grabs his hand, and Kurt can’t help but meet his eyes.

“Blaine, don’t do that,” he pleads, shaking.

Blaine holds on tighter. “Kurt, wait. I didn’t mean that - we’ll figure this out -”

He’ll never be as strong as Blaine, never be as smart. Nothing for him to figure out, there is no plan -

“Don’t say that. It makes you a hypocrite.”

“I’m not going to fight with you, Kurt.”

“We’re not fighting.” He pulls his hand free, wraps it around his middle and takes a step back from Blaine. “We’re - nothing.”

How did he not see it before? He knew. He did. He should have seen -

To be completely okay one second, to realize it was all an illusion the next. Kissing Blaine like he could easily kiss him forever, then realizing he really, honestly can’t.

Blaine pushes out from his chair, and Kurt’s never looked at him long enough to see the face he makes when he repels Kurt away.

Like he wants him back.

But Kurt can’t.

“Kurt.”

He’s fumbling around, trying to catch the broken pieces of his mind, brain blown to bits just moments ago, and he stutters, “I - I’ll call - I’ll call you.”

He’s not expecting the world to pick up speed, the colours to become a current, not expecting Blaine to lurch forward after him, but they do and he does -

“No wait, I’m not letting you do this again -”

“I’ll call you - just wait.”

He shakes his head, moving backwards even though he’s been trying to move forwards.

But Kurt can’t.

-

He honestly believed, he honestly thought, he was so entirely honestly sure that he was okay.

But Blaine is right. And Kurt knew this entire time. Can’t protect himself from the comets, can’t stop them, can’t ignore how they’re about to tear apart the world that he just put back together -

Reality is an inevitability. One day, he will be somewhere else, with a life that is completely different than the one he has now, just like Blaine, just like every other kid in their school - only, he doesn’t know where or when or how he’s going to get there, if it’s even worth it, because it took him so long to get _here_ , had to jump over obstacles and dodge bullets and he barely even _made it_ -

Kurt is meant to fail. He will always be afraid. He’ll never be able to be as strong as Blaine, destined to loom behind him, grey clouds that will never be as bright as sunshine.

He’s hurt too easily. He’s better off with no one. Because he can’t be afraid of no one.

He can hold onto a no one.

Blaine will never be a no one.

So it’s with hands that don’t want to function, fingers that clench up and shake and a too-quick heartbeat, that Kurt picks up his phone.

Eyes closed, breath catching with every ring, Kurt tries to rehearse what he’ll say, but he doesn’t really know how, he never knows how to say the things he feels.

Blaine’s voice comes through, suddenly close and loud, taking a key to every door and bursting them open as he says, “Hello, hello.”

All it does it attack Kurt’s heart like a virus, an infection, and he wants to give in, he does, but he doesn’t.

“Blaine,” he exhales, forcing his throat to move.

Blaine’s quiet, and Kurt wishes he could see him, but he knows he wouldn’t be able to handle that look on his face.

“I’ll admit, I was about to lose my marbles,” Blaine says, too high and fast to not be nervous. “I was afraid you wouldn’t call.”

“I said I would,” Kurt mumbles back, trying not to flinch and flake at the tone of Blaine’s voice. “I needed time to think.”

What he is - maybe he’s not too weak to hold on, he’s just too weak to admit that he needs to hold on, and how bad he wants to hold on, and that what he’s holding on to is the greatest thing he’s ever felt -

But it’s not about being weak or being strong. It’s the fact that he can’t. He never could.

In the future, wherever they are, Blaine has his plan and Kurt doesn’t have his. And how does he keep going when he has no clue where going is? He has no way to protect himself from things he doesn’t know about. Reality - he’s been living along walls, head low and eyes to the ground, just trying to get by - but you can’t do that in reality.

And no one will scare him. Blaine is not a no one.

He can’t hold onto a someone. Blaine is a someone. A solid, strong, living and breathing someone that Kurt loves, but he can’t, because he’s known for so long that if he wants to survive, then he has to let go of the things that he wants.

“Good thinking or bad thinking?” Blaine asks quickly, before rambling on, “I’m so sorry, for everything I said today. I am being a hypocrite, but I only want what’s best for you and sometimes I don’t care what happens to me if it means you’re okay -”

“I - I know.”

And it’s not fair to you, because I wasn’t built to ever be okay -

“You know?”

Kurt’s mind has been burned up, turned into dust, sand, and now it’s falling and he can’t hold onto it any longer, can’t hold it in.

On his nightstand are the flowers. In the same place as the old ones. Where he’d look and smile, and feel things he shouldn’t, where he’d fight off his smile and fight off memories of Blaine’s eyes and his lips and his orbit-breaking kiss -

He knew even then that he couldn’t. But he was stupid enough to forget.

He looks at the flowers now.

And he breaks. Wishes his heart were made of marble, but it’s glass and it _shatters_.

He hasn’t heard himself cry in a long, long time, the crack to his throat a foreign noise - but it’s out of his control.

Blaine makes a noise that Kurt struggles to hear, can’t hear much over the screaming in his head and the sounds his whole body makes when he chokes back a sob.

“Are you - are you crying?” Blaine yelps, frenzied. “Oh god, oh god, don’t cry please don’t cry. I’m on my way over I’m leaving right now -”

Despite the electric-wet-jolting pain crackling in his chest, Kurt laughs and chokes out, “No. Don’t. It’s okay. I’m okay.”

“You don’t expect me to believe that.”

“ _Blaine_ -” Kurt heaves out, feeling every breath pave over his heart with cement. “I’ve just been - I’ve been thinking.”

Blaine breaks off, line crackling, then he says, afraid, “I take it it’s bad thinking.”

Kurt sucks in as much air as he can, lungs feeling like they’re about to combust, and lets the tears burn and dry on his face before he exhales fully.

Weak people cry. He is weak. So why does it feel like he’s tearing down a city with his bare hands just by _doing it - ?_

If he’s weak it shouldn’t hurt this bad, it should just feel normal.

“I’m sorry.” Kurt closes his eyes tightly, dark and matted monsters ripping at his heart. “Blaine, I can’t go to prom with you.”

Hearts beat, the line goes quiet, and Blaine chuckles slowly, nervously, before he says, “We weren’t really going to prom together anyway, Kurt -”

Shaking his head and not opening his eyes, Kurt spits out and continues, “I _can’t not_ go to prom with you. I can’t be your boyfriend. I won’t be able to do things I want to with you because - _I can’t_.”

Time passes the way it should, second after second, Kurt counts each and every single one of them, and waits.

“Do I scare you?”

For somebody who spends all their time thinking, being careful, trying to hide - he has a difficult time with words and using them.

But he thinks. And through a phoneline, Blaine far away but close but not close enough, he knows what to say and with all this distance between them he can -

“I’ve barely survived the past few years, Blaine. _That_ scares me. Because - what about the next few years after this? What if I can’t actually handle it? I realized today that I’m just - always going to be - to be like this.”

Blaine’s quiet, breathing, before he says, slowly, “Because of - because of me?”

“No, _never_ \- what scares me is that I have no clue what I’m doing, Blaine. And how do I - how do I - how do I figure it out?”

Blaine said he needed to be prepared . .

He never will be because even when he _thinks_ he’s prepared, it blows up. It all blows up.

“You can -”

He’s going to think _I’ve got it._ He’s going to hold onto something that can’t be held,  just like he always has. He’s going to think he’s safe when he’s not, because Kurt has never been safe because Kurt will never be safe.

He’s let go of things to _try and be_ safe. Never been allowed to like what he likes. But with this - it will fall through his fingers, because he’s never had a choice in what he can hold onto. Nothing Kurt holds onto can be held -

“I’m never going to figure it out, Blaine. I’ll never know what we are when you ask - because I just don’t know what I’m doing. I’ll always be like this, because - Blaine, what else do I do? Things always fall apart, I hate it - how do I - how do I stay safe - ?”

“Stay safe?”

“I’m -” It’s harder than admitting the truest thing he’s ever felt. It’s shoving his fist through his chest and clawing out his heart, barely beating and drained. “ _I’m terrified_. I thought I wasn’t - I was so fucking sure I wasn’t, and it’s so much worse -”

I love you but I’ll always be afraid.

I love you but if I love you, then like all things, it will fall through my hands because I don’t have a choice - in my hands, I have no defense -

Because just when I think I’m going in the right direction, when I think I know what I’m doing, I don’t. I don’t ever. I don’t ever I never will and that scares me because I want to, so much, know where I’m going and I want to go with you -

I don’t know what to do.

“I don’t . . I’m trying to understand where this is coming from. Is it because of what I said? We were fine this morning -”

“That’s - that’s the thing,” Kurt stammers, tries to think of a body part that isn’t trembling right now. “I’m so tired of that happening. It can never just be - fine. Even - even when I think it is . .”

Getting all this out, it should be relieving, right? Glass pulled out of his chest, broken bones put back into place, a weight off his shoulders? Should feel lighter and easier, but Blaine is breathing so quietly, not saying anything back, and so Kurt only feels heavier.

Loving Blaine, it’s the hardest thing he’s ever done because he’s known all along that he can’t.

Blaine whispers, rasping, and oh god - _breaking_ \- “Telling me this, Kurt, it only proves how brave you are.”

“I wish I was. I’ve been trying.”

“You know - I don’t want you to be scared anymore. I’ll do _anything_ -”

Kurt realizes then that he’s still in his room, still hunched over on his bed with a streaked face and shaking hands, and not with Blaine right this second.

“It’s not fair to you - I’ve been trying and _I can’t._ ”

“Don’t worry about me, okay? I can - I know how to figure things out. I just want what’s -” Blaine says it all at once, voice gaining speed and slipping without traction before he rushes out, “- so what? We’re just - over?”

Right in Kurt’s ear, Blaine’s voice is a hum, a song, a chorus, it’s the worst thing he’s ever heard.

But it never really began, did it? Because Kurt can love all he wants, he can’t control fear.

“I-I don’t know.”

I can’t say it even began, and I can’t say when it ends - I’m just _weak_.

“Kurt . . I can’t just - give up on this. If that’s what you want - I - I _can’t_.”

“You’re not giving up on much - you already said you didn’t want to wait forever -”

“I will.”

Kurt laughs - laughs like it’s _funny_. It burns his throat, and he whispers, “You’re ridiculous.”

“Then so be it, I’ll be the most ridiculous person alive. Because - I know this is what you do. I know why you do it. I’m sorry if that freaks you out, but I do. I know you. I still want to be with - I still want -” Blaine’s ranting, frantically, like he’s running out of time, and he inhales deeply before sighing out shakily, “You’re making me forget the english language again, Kurt Hummel.”

Kurt mumbles into the phone, his smile pushing against thorns to come through, “. . sorry.”

“I know you, and I understand. But if this is what you want, then this is what we’ll do.”

Control is a heavy, dark thing in his hands. Feeling wrong and weird and he doesn’t know what to do with it -

But Blaine is giving it to him. So he takes it.

But if he had control he’d hang up the phone. He doesn’t. He can’t.

“I hate that I’m still - I don’t even know _how_ to try harder. I’m sorry. I - I -”

 _Don’t cry don’t cry again don’t do it_ \- how come the things he feels, the things out of his control, how come he feels them so much harder?

“You don’t have to be sorry.”

“I’m sorry -”

In his mind is a bowl of words, his hand madly shuffling them around to try and grab something that he hasn’t said yet, something that he _can_ say -

He wishes he were next to him. But you’d think standing next to someone stronger would make you feel braver. It just makes him wish he weren’t so weak in the first place.

“I know this isn’t what you want to hear, but you’ll figure things out. Even if it takes a millenium. Things happen for a reason, right?” Blaine says slowly, like he’s really asking himself.

Kurt whispers, sniffles and wipes at his nose. “I wonder who told you that . .”

Blaine’s smile is threaded through his voice, warmth wrapped around each word. “This incredibly smart guy that I tutor. Maybe you’ve met him.”

His smile - hurts. Pavement cracking, lines drawing through his face, and Kurt’s mouth opens to say, for the thousandth time, _I’m sorry_. Instead he says, “. . goodnight, Blaine.”

It takes a few moments, neither of them breathing, the world is tearing further apart with every second that goes by before Blaine finally says, “Goodnight, Kurt.”

Kurt stays on the line even though it’s gone dead. He isn’t the first to hang up. Control is alive in his hold and he made his choices and he thought they were right but they feel so wrong.

They weren’t ever his choices though, were they?

Sinking back on his bed, regret and dread and fear pool in his stomach and flood him from the inside out.

He’s been hoping that Blaine would see him and he does. But Kurt isn’t much to look at, not when you could look up and see the stars.

He turns to his side and he can’t close his eyes, keeps the phone tight, just in case -

And in the dark, Blaine’s flowers hold no colour.

-

He thought that with not having anything in his hold anymore, he could grab onto the world and make it stop spinning so fast. He thought the world would fade into grey, and he’d join the distorted shapes and figures like he’s one of them.

Where he belongs.

It doesn’t stop. It spin. And spins. And colours don’t look right. They exist and they’re all he can see and they look _wrong_.

Maybe Blaine was a disease in his heart, taking over his vision and making him see things in bright, vivid feeling.

Never once had a say in anything he does except -

So Kurt controls what he’s always been able to control.

Outfit laid out on the bed, Kurt strips his shirt off, fingers skimming along his stomach. He doesn’t let himself wish it were Blaine, because it can’t be Blaine. It can’t be anyone.

But Blaine’s touch was never scary - it was the fact that it wasn't like anybody else’s.

Kurt gets dressed the way he has every single day. Armour for the war that he’ll never stop fighting in. Dark gradient sweater, dark jeans, darker boots, and he laces them tight around his ankles.

He says good morning to his dad like everything is fine. Because it is fine. He will be fine.

It’s not like last time. He knew this was coming, so it has to be fine.

Braves his way through school, it’s only been two days since the call but it’s hard - and he doesn’t look at anyone, because everyone else knows where they’re going and what they’re doing and what they’re good at - and Kurt hasn’t ever been so lost.

They see the world in light, with hopes and dreams and bright futures. Kurt sees dark figures, telling him he’ll always live in fear, because he’s too weak to hold on to what he likes.

Kurt sees monsters.

It’s not like last time, because the last time he was pushed off the universe’s edge, he had no idea it was coming. And when he saw Blaine afterwards, he was yanked down through the ground, pulled to the deepest depths of whatever hell lies beneath them.

Seeing him now; Blaine’s wearing a blue polo with a polka dot bow tie and Kurt - melts. Because he sees Blaine and he can’t contain his breathing, his smile, the jump of joy in his stomach.

It’s not an attack at his tissues, his blood cells, his bones. Not a virus or an infection or a disease. It’s just Blaine.

Blaine, walking through the crowds of people and - getting closer to him, beaming at him in golden rays -

Kurt knows each smile, knows this one, he just doesn’t understand why he’s wearing it.

Why he’s coming closer. No reason for him to come closer, Kurt’s just muted colours against the crowd.

But he guesses, hopes, that once you’ve been seen you can’t fade.

“Hi,” Blaine greets him, smile never wavering, stepping forward.

Kurt stares at him, tries to close his eyes or look away but his muscles refuse to cooperate.

He says, slowly, “. . what do you want?”

Talking to him feels like taking your first breath after behind held under water. Feels like he needs it - like it’s amazing that he’s survived this long without it.

Blaine shrugs and grins. “Just thought I’d say hi.”

Kurt presses his back to the wall, tightens his grip on his bag. “O-okay.”

“What?” Blaine asks, head tilting to the side, eyebrows pointed high. “Am I - do you want me to ignore you when I see you? I don’t - I don’t think I can do that.”

Yes, actually -

“No. No. Um - hi?”

His eyes follow Blaine’s.

Blaine, who’s looking at every piece of Kurt carefully, and his smile softens as he breathes out, “Hi.”

Kurt tips his head down, stares at his boots and fights off the twitch to his lips. “You said that already.”

Blaine splutters, shoulders raised and a flare of panic across his face, “I don’t know what to say anymore because it feels like I don’t have much time left -”

Can’t fight it off anymore - Kurt laughs, no pain in his chest as he burns up with it.

Could separate them for a thousand days, a thousand miles, and he’s finding they always come together so entirely easily, like they’ve never been apart -

“I guess, um -” He really should have expected this. The universe hates him. Takes things away when he wants them, pushes him into corners he can’t be trapped in - putting pieces together and bringing Blaine to Kurt when they can’t be. He should have expected this. “How are exams going?”

“Great. Amazing, actually. But I have to tell you something.” Blaine says, smiles and bounces up on his tip toes. “You’re right.”

Kurt narrows his eyes, tries to follow. “. . I’m right?”

“I tried to pretend that you weren’t. That I was doing what I’m meant to,” Blaine says, excited expression receding back, leaving his face blank. “But I was scared too, I guess. That if I didn’t go this way, then I wouldn’t go anywhere. But I’ve been talking with Ms. Pillsbury again, and maybe there are different directions I could go.”

If he were expecting this he would have prepared himself - but this doesn’t hurt the way he thought it would.

It - It doesn’t hurt at all.

He lets himself smile, bites down on his lip and hides it, pointing his gaze in the other direction. “Blaine, that’s . .”

“It’ll take some time to figure it out. But good things are worth waiting for, right?”

“That’s amazing.”

Blaine’s hand flexes by his side, the other grabbing at the strap of his bag. Kurt would hold it, would reach out for him, but he knows he wouldn’t want to let go and that’s -

That’s what scares him. Because he will.

“It’s terrifying not knowing where I’m going, but a bit exciting at the same time. I could - technically, I can do anything.”

Kurt pulls his arms across himself to keep from doing things he can’t, and mumbles out, “I’m really - I’m proud of you. That probably took a lot of - a lot of courage.”

“It’s for the better. It feels like I’ve wasted years of my life trying to do something I was never meant to do - but - that just has to mean whatever it is I am meant to do is out there . . somewhere?”

Why did he do this? He didn’t want to be afraid anymore - but now all he’s fearing is the fact that Blaine will walk away and continue his life and he’s going to want Kurt in it but Kurt won’t be able to - Kurt can’t -

Blaine’s jumped into a current that could carry him anywhere, and he’s scared but it isn’t stopping him -

Why does he have to be so weak . . ? He knows, even if he had something, had a path, that he’d be too scared to walk down it because wherever that destination is, whatever he’s meant to do, Kurt will fall through that floor too, will drop whatever’s in his hands. The universe hates him.

 _Fine_ really means _fine for now until you’ve held it for too long, fine until it blows up -_

Blaine shifts around, fidgeting, like he knows he should leave but he doesn’t want to - and Kurt doesn’t either. “So your dad must be driving you nuts about graduation, huh? When I first talked with him, he was scared you wouldn’t make it. But now -”

I never really made it though, did I?

“Actually . .” Kurt starts to say, turns around and busies himself with shuffling things around his locker. “I’m not going.”

He feels the exact second Blaine’s breath catches, when he slowly exhales. “What do you mean?”

“I mean - I’m not going. There’s no point.”

Blaine moves around, suddenly appearing at Kurt’s side, and Kurt continues to focus on rearranging his books, glaring at them pointedly to try and shake the feeling of Blaine’s eyes on him -

“There is a point, Kurt.”

“Is there?” Kurt bites, feeling the chains wrap back around his chest, pulling tight. “Because I fail to see how walking across a stage means anything.”

Blaine presses in close but Kurt still doesn’t look.

“Because it’s monumental,” Blaine says, louder. “It’s - _you’ve worked so hard._ ”

“I get out of this school either way. I don’t need to go.”

The world was spinning before, but when Blaine lays a hand on Kurt’s forearm - it goes black.

Goes black, goes white, becomes blinding and Kurt sees it all flash before his eyes -

“I know you’re scared, Kurt. But you worked so hard -”

Kurt closes his eyes so he doesn’t have to see the light, pushes out how right it feels to have Blaine’s hand around him.

“I said no, Blaine. I can’t.”

“I don’t want you to regret anything,” Blaine insists, squeezing tighter.

“I won’t.” The only thing I’d regret is having all those eyes on me, being the one lost soul in a sea of creatures who have a current. “I’m not going, and nobody will notice, so I don’t - I don’t care.”

Blaine stands straight, shoulders back, and when he says nothing, Kurt searches for him.

“I will.” And looking at him doesn’t hurt, not the way it should, not the way he expects it to. “I’ll notice. But I’m not going to pressure you into something you can’t do.”

When it comes to Blaine, he’s finding that he truly really isn’t scared of him.

He’s been hurt before. Of course he has, who hasn’t? This is just what he is - how he coped, how he dealt, the only defense he could create because everything else was too heavy for him to carry. Blaine got under the defense, pushed back shields that were only an illusion, walking past them but - respecting that Kurt needed them. So really, maybe, what he’s scared of - is that he wants him there too much. The entire time that he’s been pushing him back and denying it is because - if he didn’t, if he let Blaine stay, he would and then he wouldn’t. He’d go. Everything has to go -

“I - Blaine -”

Blaine runs his thumb over Kurt’s wrist, loosening his grip.

“Whatever it takes for you to not be scared anymore.”

He takes his hand away, smiles reassuringly, and before Kurt can say anything - he leaves, and Kurt can’t stop him.

He won’t ever be able to.

-

His days are numbered. What is he going to do?

Heart a bomb strapped to his chest, the only way to short circuit it was by letting it all go. Letting go of any and all dreams he ever had, letting go of Blaine, letting go of the idea that he could actually be fine.

His days are numbered. That’s what they are. Not counting down to anything. It’s just -

One day of being alive. Two days of being alive. Three days four days five days - and then one day it’s over.

Nothing he does can change that. He’s too weak to make changes.

Blaine showed him hope; silver and glittering and radiating his insides. Made him think and believe he could feel it and something could happen from it. But nothing can happen.

Day after day of nothing. It’s better than day after day of living in fear, isn’t it?

Kurt sits on the porch, summer filtering in to replace the spring season, and tonight the sky is refusing to turn black, a dim blue hanging overhead.

He breathes out smoke, watches it lift through the air, feels a burn in his lungs that’s become new to his entire system.

He knew he was equipped with this. Knew that the wrong thing could pull everything apart - and so did Blaine. Because way back then, when Kurt was so scared he couldn’t even admit he liked Blaine, when people found out that he did anyways and wanted to hurt him for it.

He fell to pieces, the only thing he knows how to do correctly. And there was Blaine to see it.

The front door opens and closes, heavy footsteps creaking along the porch until they’re right next to Kurt. He looks up and sees his dad, entire face pulled into a frown, and he leans down, plucks the cigarette from his hands and tosses it to the ground, making a point to grind it in with his boot.

“At least have the decency to hide it from me,” his dad grumbles, crossing his arms.

Kurt pulls his shoulders up and lowers his head, says to his feet, “Sorry.”

But his dad’s face softens, smile warm, like he’s never frowned in his life.

“And aren’t you supposed to be at prom?” he asks, gaze switching to his watch. “Starts soon, don’t it?”

Kurt drops the expression he’s wearing, points his glare at his dad and lets his mouth hang open. “Does it look like I’m going to prom?”

Eyes calculating, his dad thinks and says, “I just thought Blaine would have asked -”

“He asked. I’m not going.”

Kurt reaches into the pocket of his jacket, finds the metal of his lighter and brings it out, needs something to focus on.

Not noticing that he set something off, his dad grins and jokes, “You know, I can always pull out my ol’ blue suit if you change your mind.”

Kurt’s insides bubble and buzz with his laugh, a spark of emotion that he wasn’t expecting, and he buries his head into the crook of his elbow and mumbles, “A night of being crowded between sweaty, over-eager teenagers does not sound appetizing. But thanks.”

The evening air pulls tight, draws out, and Kurt can hear the gears of his dad’s mind working, turning, thinking.

“I don’t want you to regret not going.”

Kurt bites on his lip, draws his knees to his chest so he can rest his chin on them, and exhales his trapped breath. “I won’t.”

His dad is always someone he’s safe with. Because his dad just doesn’t have the power to hurt him, in any way shape or form. His dad is also someone who’s never had control. Couldn’t decide that his son would turn out to be this way, couldn’t decide on what would happen to the woman he married and loved -

Never had control, never had a say, but does so much anyways.

His dad’s hand lands on his shoulder and Kurt jolts from his thoughts, meets his sad-toned gaze, and his dad says, uneasily, “I gotta head to the shop for an hour or two. You okay by yourself?”

Kurt whispers back, mouth twitching to one side, “I always have been.”

“Alright.” His dad nods, waves before stepping away, pulling his keys from his pocket. “See you in a bit.”

His dad probably had no idea what to do either - but he did something. Became something that Kurt couldn’t possibly fear, even when he had everything to be afraid of. Genetics molded him to look like his dad, his mom, but he’ll never share their fearlessness.

But maybe they were meant to be stronger than Kurt, so Kurt would always have somebody to look to.

“Dad?” Kurt calls out, lifting his chin up and swallowing hard.

“Mhm?” His dad turns back.

Fumbling with the lighter before pocketing it, pulling the sleeves of his jacket over his hands and drawing his arms close to himself, Kurt realizes he truly does not possess the power to tell his dad this -

But his mouth is opening and words are climbing up his throat, a queasy jump in his gut, face heating up and nerves prickling under his skin before he stutters out, “I’m - I’m also skipping out on graduation.”

Kurt locks on to his gaze, doesn’t look away even though the confusion that’s rippling across his dad’s face feels like disappointment.

“Okay . .” his dad sighs, rubbing at the back of his head as he walks closer. “I’d like a bit more of an explanation here.”

Locking up even though he’s the one who started this, Kurt tears his eyes away and stares down at the wood grains in the porch, trails a finger along the pattern. “It’s simple. There’s no point.”

The porch creaks when his dad sits down, nudging his shoulder off Kurt’s, and he asks, astounded, “You survived four years of high school and you’re telling me there’s no point to celebrating that?”

Kurt’s got his answer ready, the atoms that make him up knowing exactly how to react to his dad’s. “I _barely_ survived high school, and it wasn’t because of any of the people there. And they - they all know what they’re going to do. And I don’t. So what’s the point?”

He can’t read his dad’s face - he’s smiling like he knows something Kurt doesn’t.

“That you’ve made it.”

Kurt drops his head back down, anxiously threading his fingers together before pulling them apart. “ _Barely_.”

“When this year started up, I was scared there’d be a chance that you _wouldn’t_ make it. That you’d just give up. Now something obviously changed. It could be that you got yourself a tutor, a friend, but I like to think it’s ‘cause you’re one strong headed kid.”

Then he doesn’t know what to do with his hands, or his thoughts, or his rapidly racing heart.

Pressing his palm to his forehead, eyes closed, he whispers to the skin of his wrist, “Nothing about me is strong.”

He flinches without meaning to when his dad’s hand touches the bend of his back, careful and hesitant like he knows Kurt could take off into a sprint and never look back.

“Maybe we aren’t looking at the same person,” his dad says.

It’s almost funny, he could laugh - he looks at himself and sees the skeleton of a person who wasn’t quick enough to distance themselves from a bomb -

And his dad sees -

“Well,” he chokes out, swallows down nothing and feels his throat scrape. “People aren’t always what they seem to be.”

“True,” his dad agrees, nods his head and rubs a circle across Kurt’s back before moving away. “But you sittin’ here right next to me is proof enough that you’re stronger than anything you’ve come across.”

Blaine said something just like that.

Kurt was only trying to protect himself. But he’s still here, still breathing, and he did protect himself - not very well, not the way he wants to, but - he’s still here when all he wanted to do was _disappear_.

Blaine had agreed so easily, like it wasn’t a problem to him at all that Kurt needed out. Maybe, he hopes, he wishes, he dreams - it was because Blaine knew ( _Blaine is so much smarter than Kur_ t) before Kurt did that by Kurt doing just that, saying those words, admitting defeat - was giving him the strength to defeat his demons, once and for all -

_It only proves how brave you are -_

His dad tells him, huffing out his breath and tilting his head back to blink at the sky, “I almost didn’t believe the kid when he first called me about your progress report. ‘Cause you know what he said? That you didn’t need tutoring. You just needed to find a drive.”

Kurt - turns red, blush spreading across his cheeks, thoughts of Blaine talking about him with his dad burning up inside of him.

“He didn’t say that . .” Kurt murmurs into his sleeves, turning his head away.

“And maybe you haven’t found that drive yet, but you will.”

He knows what he’s made of, how he functions and why. He thought if he just became a blank space that nothing could get him anymore. But his dad strums at his strings, plays a song that he can’t ignore, ignites something much different than a bomb -

“I guess.”

His dad lets out a harsh laugh, his mouth turned into a wild smirk, and he says, “And wouldn’t it just be - listen, kid, you walking across that stage in your cap and gown - well, that’d be the biggest middle finger the world has ever seen.”

Fear has been pushed so far down that Kurt almost forgets he feels it.

Burying his face in his hands, Kurt laughs through his fingers because he can’t believe his dad -

“I can’t force you to do anything, Kurt. Hell, if I could, you’d never touch a cigarette again.” His dad stands, walks back down the steps and turns to face him before adding, “But there is a point, Kurt. And you deserve it.”

Words that hit Kurt’s skin like arrows -

He doesn’t have a defense anymore. It broke a long time ago. He was just going to fade -

“I’ll think about it,” he says quietly, eyes pricking hot.

His dad smiles, adjusts the hat on his head.

“That’s all I ask.”

For the longest time Kurt thought his dad never saw, never understood. But he must have known things Kurt didn’t, seen things Kurt couldn’t - his dad knew what Kurt didn’t know until now -

Even like this, faded, muted and blank - he’s him, he’s Kurt, and he’s still here, so he must still be fighting.

-

It’s been set in his phone’s calendar for a while now.

Counting down the days since the school year began.

Almost there almost there almost there almost there -

Almost done.

Quinn told him that afterwards, nobody will even care. And nobody will - he won’t, that’s for sure. He never even knew the names of the people who pushed him, hurt him, wanted him gone - and so why would he ever remember their faces?

So nobody will care after, so let them care now.

Because he’s made it, and it’s too late for them. Let them care now and they’ll realize that nothing they can do will touch him, pull him down, and even if they could - he’d just get up and keep going, keep going keep going he’d be okay -

You have to.

And one day you’ll be somewhere far away.

He wakes up that day with nerves like butterflies, panicked and frenzied and desperate to break free. Pacing the room, he debates calling Blaine, to see if he’s just as nervous -

But it’s still dark out, the morning mixed with night.

The sun - Blaine said it was always shining. Which Kurt supposes is true.

Somewhere in the world, the sun is bright and luminous.

It’s dark for him now, might be dark for a little while longer, so he doesn’t see it but it’s there.

And if he just waits, just holds on, then soon it will be light, soon it will brighter, soon it will be better.

Kurt doesn’t call. Not because he’s afraid, not now never again -

But because he wants it to be a surprise.

-

The red robe and cap feel ridiculous, but at least he blends in.

Fidgets in his seat and hopes that nobody talks to him, but somewhere in the crowd is Blaine, and Quinn, and if they’re brave then he’ll join them because why not, nobody can touch _them_.

If these kids want him gone - he’ll go. He’ll go further. And that’s been the plan all along, hasn’t it?

He still feels the tight press of his dad’s hug, right before he sent Kurt into the crowd, looking like he just sent Kurt to his first day of kindergarten.

Maybe he was scared then. He doesn’t remember.

Maybe he is scared now. Maybe he will always be scared.

Kurt isn’t stupid - he knows. He’s lived so long without anything, and he’s been given the chance to hold onto something. He could drop it, he could, he knows maybe he will. Some demon will be whispering in his ear that he can’t carry anything, that he’ll always be a faded photograph, that his days are numbered.

But you get lost. You get found. You figure things out.

You fail when you want to fly. You fail if you don’t fly, anyway, so why not try -

If there is a road ahead of him, it could be hard and it could be full of obstacles and he honestly doesn’t know if he’ll make it this time. He’s barely made it _now_ \- but he did. He did make it.

He made it.

Blaine’s called towards the beginning, grinning like he can’t believe it, up the stairs and over the stage and waving his arms victoriously. Kurt doesn’t care anymore; he cheers, and he claps, even if Blaine can’t hear him.

It’s not Blaine who hears him. It’s Quinn.

Sitting a few rows ahead of him, turning back and scanning the crowds until she spots him, and she looks as out of place as he does, pink hair and red cap, but she smiles and waves and Kurt smiles back.

When she’s called, he cheers just as loud.

Then his name is called.

And he can’t believe he’s hearing it. That’s his name -

Kurt Hummel.

And they’re saying it because he’s made it, he’s done.

Steps up to the stage with shaking legs, afraid that he’ll trip, afraid that the auditorium will fall silent and everyone will watch him pass with hatred in their eyes, but the auditorium bursts into applause like it has for every other kid, and he thinks he hears his dad hollering and cheering in the background.

He’ll never be afraid again.

Walks across the stage and shakes the hands of people he doesn’t know, hears more applause but it’s all a blur, flashing before his eyes.

Pushing rubble off of him, breaking through an avalanche and reaching for the sun, he’s made it through hell and if there’s more hell ahead of him he can -

He found a way through this. He can find a way through that. Because he did it. He made it. It’s done.

_It’s over._

-

They’re shuffled into the courtyard afterwards, and he’s one single soul in a crowd of people.

Not caring about the other souls, on a mission to find one, and only one.

Turning this way and that, he looks for Blaine. Because he admitted to himself that he loved him when he was still scared - he thought he wasn’t, but that was before he found out how much heartbreak could hurt, and then how the scar could heal over - so now he feels it harder.

He’s searching his pocket for his phone, knows his dad must be looking for him but he needs to get to Blaine first. He’s just about to call him, yell out to him that he’s sorry, he is -

But somebody is bounding towards him, smile like the stars and Kurt’s drawn to him like Blaine has his own gravitational pull.

“Kurt!” Blaine yells, tearing off his cap, gelled hair sticking up.

And Kurt -

Runs towards him.

The Kurt of before would have run away. But this Kurt’s been seen - and he can’t fade and he doesn’t want to.

Fading leaves him worn and torn and lonely, and if that’s the life he’s meant to have, the one where he doesn’t have to live in fear of things falling - he’d choose this, he’d choose fear, because _this_ is so much better.

Because bodies colliding, Kurt into Blaine, it’s like fear never existed in the first place.

It could be that they’ve been running towards each other this whole time, there have just been things in their way. People bigger than they are, people who want to hurt them, people smaller and more scared and people who don’t understand -

But they do.

“I can’t believe you’re here,” Blaine shouts, voice vibrating close to Kurt’s ear. “Kurt - you came, you’re here! You did it!”

The distorted world, with its ugly shapes, they all transform and turn into brilliant bright pastel spots, stars, squares and hearts.

Arms around each other, Kurt’s hands slip and fall and cling to wherever he can grab at Blaine’s back, and he’s let go, but never again.

“I know -” he stammers, breath knocked out of him. “I - I can’t believe it either.”

Blaine doesn’t say _see? I told you_ or _see? It wasn’t that bad_. Just pulls him in tighter, and says instead, “Knew you could.”

Swallowing down words that his body tries to throw up, Kurt blinks tears from his eyes and his heart pumps out courage, and he whispers back, “Well - I had a good tutor, remember?”

Blaine laughs, lifting him off his feet for half a second before it’s too much.

But what Kurt really means is _couldn’t have done it without you_ -

\- Sorry for making you wait. Sorry for being so weak. Sorry for taking so long to realize that I don’t need to be strong anyway, I just need to be brave -

Thank you for finally knowing that.

When you spend day after day waking up, not knowing what to do, feeling dread and fear, when you finally have the chance to wake up and be excited to live, you need to grab it.

You can let fear seep into your life, or you can push it away as hard as you can and go further than it -

Blaine’s arms squeeze him, he laughs shakily, says so quietly that Kurt almost doesn’t catch it, “I’m so proud of you, Kurt Hummel.”

Kurt pulls back enough to smile with him, lets his face light up like a constellation.

He’s breathing heavier than he has in his entire life, feels like an entirely different person, a heart that isn’t his but it must be because it feels familiar things -

Hundreds, maybe thousands, maybe millions of people - or maybe one or maybe none, it doesn’t matter - they all march in red. Red the colour of the familiar pulse in his heart.

He’ll never be afraid again.

Pulling Blaine by the gown, fingers twitching and slipping, he closes his eyes and shuts out the red because he knows what he feels. Everything with Blaine is always falling. So he falls, and he falls, but he isn’t scared.

And he kisses him, because he can, because he wants to.

Feeling different and feeling the same and the world could be watching -

But this is Blaine.

There’s no air between them when they part, only half a fraction of half an inch, lips brushing, Blaine taking one arm off of Kurt to push his glasses back up.

“Kurt -” Blaine gasps out, blinks slowly then quickly, eyes darting to either side of them. “What about - ?”

People can hurt them. Can get in their way and make them scared but right now it feels like they’re invincible, shields made of steel and concrete woven together.

Could be scared -

But this is Blaine.

So he says, because there is nothing left to say, not when he’s been waiting for this final moment, for the courage, for the words -

“Blaine, I don’t care - I - I love you.”

-

It’s like admitting what he’s feeling - felt, for far too long - breaks something in the universe. And suddenly the only feeling is what he’s feeling and he can’t stop feeling it -

Did he really spend his year fighting this, wearing denial like chainmail armour, trying to slay dragons that didn’t really exist?

But he had everything to fear. Dragons might not have existed outside of his head but they were breathing fire inside, and before he could set them free - he had to conquer them.

He’s been telling himself that he isn’t strong enough, but living after falling (falling so, so many times) and living after having your most vital organs slashed in half, and living when you’ve already told yourself that you don’t deserve it 

Well, he has to be brave then, right?

He told Blaine to go celebrate with his family, even though Blaine insisted that he wanted to stay with Kurt. But now that the truth is out there in the world, they have more than just tonight to do something about it.

Still, he keeps his phone close.

Once they got home, his dad understood that Kurt was too exhausted to even keep his eyes open.

Today his heart has been scraped clean, but it’s not like he minds.

It’s later in the night, Kurt stepping out of the shower and ready to call it quits, that his phone rings.

Then he isn’t tired anymore, he’s more awake now than ever, and sprints to his bed with his heart beating fresh _alive_ blood -

“Hi,” he says breathlessly, tugging the towel tight around his waist before sinking down onto the mattress.

Blaine’s voice is warm, spent and distant but still so close as he says, “Good evening, Kurt Hummel.”

A voice that’s always made shocks of something sharp attack his spine, an amber glow tint his lungs, a voice that his every nerve is just - tuned to.

“Are you done celebrating?”

Blaine hums, “Not quite.”

“Hmm,” Kurt hums back, feels his smile spread like wildfire. “That’s too bad, ‘cause I was thinking about calling it a night.”

“What - are you - oh -”

Eyes rolling, laugh dry, Kurt sighs out, “I’m kidding, Blaine.”

“Oh,” Blaine exhales, and his voice comes out higher, more hopeful. “So you are home?”

“I’m home.”

A break of noise, Blaine shuffling around before he continues, asking with nerves buzzing in his voice, “So then do you want to - uh, um, would you like to accompany me to my house?”

Jolts and waves of something quick, dark, blazing snap at his stomach, and Kurt asks slowly, raising up from the bed, “Why? Where - where are you?”

Blaine chuckles nervously, and says too quickly, “I’m outside your house.”

“. . that’s not creepy at all.”

“Kurt -”

He laughs, breathlessly, and asks, “Why don’t you come up here?”

Blaine says like it’s obvious, “Because I can see your dad’s car.”

He moves away from his bed, holding the towel with one hand, and goes to the window to try and peer out into the darkness.

“Okay?”

Blaine’s next breath comes out choked, mangled. “And my parents are staying at my brother’s hotel so they can drive him to the airport first thing in the morning.”

Then it’s Kurt who tries to breathe, sounding like a squeal-squeak-whine in the back of his throat. “Oh.”

“So would you like to -”

“Do I want to go to your house?”

“That’s correct.”

He hums again, loud and more obnoxious, picturing Blaine sitting in his car with his hand over his face, trying not to combust into pieces -

“Are you trying to seduce me now, Blaine?”

Blaine - splutters, choking for real this time, and Kurt thinks he says, “What - no - I’m - I’m only asking -”

He smiles like he’s meant to, one that fits his face easily. “I’ll be right out.”

He throws on an old grey hoodie and hurries to get ready, knowing very well that Blaine could be meaning anything and what Kurt’s hoping -

Blaine’s leaning against his car, staring up at the sky that Kurt knows he loves so much.

But he tips his head down when the porch creaks with Kurt’s footsteps, and he smiles like he could maybe just love something a little bit more.

Kurt’s hoping -

“You’re breaking curfew,” Kurt says sternly, faking a frown as he steps in front of Blaine.

Blaine’s hands find his waist, holding him like he never really has before because he’s never really been allowed - and shrugs. “You’re a terrible influence on me.”

It’s strange - it’s strange - his fingertips are buzzing, wild and unstable but then perfectly stable when he grabs at Blaine, pushing him back against the car and connecting their lips, like it’s been too long since their last kiss -

“So your house?” he whispers against him.

Blaine smiles, nudges his nose off of Kurt’s. “My house.”

“Like - a date?”

His smile turns sour, surprised then wiped clean, and Blaine says, cautiously, “If that’s what you’d like to call it.”

“I do.”

Sourness fades, and all that’s left is a glow.

“Splendid.”

-

He’s never been on a date before. He doesn’t know what to expect.

But it turns out - it’s exactly like every other time that he’s been to Blaine’s house.

Blaine offers to take his jacket, even though he isn’t wearing one, holds his hand as they climb the stairs, but this time he bumbles around like a bee on the fritz, breathing quickly and fumbling with his footsteps, humming too loudly to himself.

“We could watch a movie?” Blaine asks, sounding strung tight, face turning pink. “Or we could - we could sleep - or -”

Kurt follows him into his room, shutting the door behind him as he says, slowly, “I don’t think people sleep on dates.”

“Right, yeah, of course -”

Blaine’s blushing like they’ve never done anything like this before - and Kurt guesses they really haven’t.

“I - I have another idea.” He says it softly, delicate, like he’s trying not to shake something fragile.

In a world of strange shapes and monstrous colours, Blaine’s eyes connect with his and that world gets pushed back, and the world they exist in now sharpens, clears.

“Yeah? Like you -” Eyes wide from behind his glasses, mouth parted but not moving, Blaine steps closer and reaches for him, settling on his elbow.

“Unless you really do just want to sleep.”

Blaine quickly shakes his head, jumping back into life, and blurts out, “No, not at all - not even tired, not one bit -”

They’ve moved together before, they’ve touched each other before, but dropping to the bed and trying not to grin as he kisses Blaine isn’t something he’s used to. Not having to hold back, not having to hide - just Blaine and just him, and the only feeling that’s left in the world -

Blaine’s leaning his whole body against Kurt’s, pushing against his chest, using both hands to cradle his head and keep him close.

Kurt doesn’t know what to do with his, because they can do so much. Don’t have to let go -

He knows now, exactly how much control he does have - and it doesn’t always have to be at his fingertips, and maybe it’s not in his heart where he thought he so desperately needed it -

It’s in his breathing, it’s in keeping his eyes open when he wants them closed.

He slides one hand up Blaine’s side, along his ribs, fingers curling over where his heart beats hard. A thunderous rhythm, fast-fast-fast under Kurt’s palm.

_Fast-fast-fast -_

Blaine breaks away, heaves his held breath out.

“Blaine?” he tries, swallowing hard, vocal chords strumming.

Blaine’s breathing over his lips, a net of confusion laid out over his face, thinking, before his voice wavers and he whispers, “I thought you should know. I picked out my prom song.”

Kurt blinks, says, “Prom was like, last -”

“I’ve had it picked out for a while.”

Kurt reluctantly slinks backwards, slides his hands into his lap, and suddenly he can’t meet Blaine’s eyes. “What is it?”

Blaine’s smiling down at his lap, nose scrunching as he shakes out his laugh, and it’s so quiet, mumbled over heartbeats, but he says, “It’s by ‘The Real Thing’.”

Kurt tries to say, “Never heard of them -”

But Blaine cuts in. “‘You To Me Are Everything’.”

Never knows what to say, never, and Kurt’s mouth goes dry, his throat scapes, and his heart turns his blood glittering-gold -

“How does it go?”

Blaine meets his eyes, smile small and hidden in the corner, but never gone for long - kind of like the sun - and then he’s surging forward, picking up exactly where they left off.

Against his lips, out of breath and sounding wrecked, Blaine sings, or tries to sing, “ _I would take the stars out of the sky for you_ -”

Kurt bursts with stars, laughing like he’s been hiding this laugh away for years, never knew he even could -

“- _oh my god_ -”

Voice and mouth against Kurt’s neck, tickling and warm, Blaine continues, “ _Stop the rain from falling if you ask me to -_ ”

Kurt pushes at Blaine with both hands, but still holds on because he doesn’t really want him to go, and his laugh is hysterical and his face hurts and he gasps, not meaning it, “- I didn’t ask you to sing it -”

He’s never felt this before - so how does he even know then, that this kind of feeling is too heavy to hold -

He doesn’t need to hold it in his hands though, does he . . ?

“I’m preparing choreography,” Blaine says, pecking the corner of Kurt’s lips, his own grin growing wide. “You can’t escape this.”

No, he doesn’t.

“I wouldn’t dream of it.”

With waves crashing in his ears, flowing over his chest, Blaine’s hands are like anchors, pushing at him until his back hits the bed.

He fits over him, chest to chest and mouth to mouth.

There’s nothing left to hide. The words he layered underneath his skin have been exposed, and he can’t take them back, so he’s not afraid of that now -

Not afraid of this because there is nothing left to hide.

Blaine curls his hands in the fabric of Kurt’s hoodie, kiss breaking because he smiles too hard, breaking again when he struggles to lift it off.

The world seems to be vibrating, but it could just be that their hands haven’t stopped shaking, that their hearts could cause earthquakes.

He’s never taken the second it takes to realize that Blaine does wear chapstick now, lips smooth and wet and - sweet - and Kurt wonders what else he could find out if he just took the second -

Kurt’s the one who slides Blaine’s glasses off, carefully setting them away, and then his fingers work at the button on his jeans, inching them down his hips.

And Blaine blinks at him, wonder struck across his face.

He helps him, hooking his fingers through the belt loops, slowly tugging them down until Kurt can kick them off.

Kurt knows they’ve seen each other naked, it can’t be a shock - but maybe before they were afraid to look, so they didn’t see.

Stripped down to almost nothing, he knows he does now.

“I bought - I bought condoms,” Blaine heaves out, taking his hands off Kurt to rub at his eyes. “Not - not recently. But I did - just in case.”

His stomach twists and it turns and it wants to climb up his throat, but Kurt swallows and breathes, “You were right, weren’t you?”

Blaine breathes harshly, head shaking. “I don’t want you to think that I was expecting anything.”

Kurt grabs onto Blaine’s wrist and pulls himself up, and he’s never noticed how broad his chest is, how strong his arms are, how he can’t look away -

“It’s okay,” he says, and he’s finding that after admitting the truth, his voice has lost the spike he once wedged into his words. “I don’t.”

He’s never done it with somebody he wants to do it with - and now he just really, really wants to do it - enough with waiting and enough with being scared he wants this almost more than anything -

But Blaine’s staring at him, curiously, playing with puzzle pieces and putting them together.

“I’ve been wondering . . were you going to tell me before?” he asks, casting his eyes downwards. “That you - you know - ?”

Something turns Kurt’s thudding heart into iron, sinking in his chest, and he sits up straighter, looks off to the side and threads his fingers together. “Yeah, I was planning on it.”

“Oh.” Blaine’s breath comes harsh through his nose, angrier and angrier and he whines, “God, _I’m such an idiot._ ”

And Kurt has to laugh - hurt strums at his strings but he can’t hear it anymore. “You are, but - I needed that to happen.”

Covering his eyes, Blaine whips his head back and forth and bites, “No, you don’t deserve to be hurt, _ever_.”

The air of the room was just hot seconds ago, now it’s like ice against his bared skin.

“I know, no one does. But I needed to learn that it can happen, I guess. Even when - even when I didn’t think it could.”

And it did, and I still made it through

“I’ll do everything I can - anything, honestly - to make sure that it never does again.”

He could spend the rest of his life worrying that someone will hurt him, because someones are not no ones -

Or he can remember that he really is brave enough to trust, that he can get past it.

He’s been through worse.

That’s what not being afraid is.  Knowing there’s always going to be a chance that you can be hurt, but knowing you’ll survive.

“It still feels weird saying it,” Kurt mumbles, pale skin of his face tinting red. “Surprised I even could . .”

“What? I love you?” Blaine asks, bumping into Kurt’s side, warmth spreading between them.

“ _Don’t_ \- oh my god -” Kurt slaps his hands over his face, makes a frustrated noise while Blaine nudges him again with his elbow.

“Well, Kurt Hummel, I have some bad news for you,” he sings, leaning forward so he can lean his cheek against Kurt’s shoulder. “I love you.”

Kurt gasps for breath because every inhale isn’t full of air, it’s a nebula.

“Blaine -”

“I think I’ve been in love with you since you first made fun of my suspenders.”

Bubbles burst inside him, and an orchestra begins to play, but he can’t hear it over Blaine’s voice ringing in his mind.

Blaine kisses over his hands, his cheeks, finds a way to kiss up his forehead.

“No you haven’t -”

“Oh, but I have,” Blaine counters, wrapping his hands around Kurt’s wrists and pulling them away. “But I wasn’t going to pressure you into saying something you couldn’t. Or something you didn’t feel. I can wait, remember?”

Kurt leans forward, Blaine’s hands still around his wrists, pushes to get to his lips and there, he whispers, “What if I’ve been waiting for you to say it first?”

Which he has - but he’s so glad he didn’t.

This relief doesn’t consume him like a storm, it mixes in to what he already knows he’s feeling, and he feels so much -

And Blaine says back, “I thought we already discussed how big of an idiot I am.”

Kisses him, kisses him again, because he can because he can because he wants to and he _can_ \- and Kurt sways into him, every muscle off its hinges, ready now, ready for whatever it is Blaine wants -

What Blaine wants - and they’re both down, exposed, and now when Blaine’s eyes travel over him it’s like he’s reading the print across Kurt’s skin, things he feels written in cursive.

It’s strange to have Blaine’s hands brush over his thighs, where he’s never really touched before, but Kurt doesn’t mind, lets him wander, lets his eyes see, because maybe Blaine’s trying to catch up on all the things he missed, too.

Or maybe he’s thinking -

Trampling doubt down, stomping on it to make it disappear, Kurt asks, throat tight, “You don’t care that somebody else - that I’ve - that I’ve done it -”

The jerk of Blaine’s head is instant, chin up and eyes wide, pinned to Kurt’s with an insistent flame burning behind them. “No,” he says, darkly. “Of course not. I’m considering myself lucky that it gets to be me.”

Doubt melts away, a gentle wave of calm settling in, and Kurt’s breathing comes easier, chest rising and falling in a delicate rhythm. He shifts one leg, higher up - not letting his heart rate reach a fatal level -

“Just - start slow.”

Blaine’s watching him, like if he looked away he’d miss everything, like if he blinked it’d all be over, intent yet - _soft_ , somehow.

“Okay,” Blaine whispers, breathing over Kurt’s knee before he pecks a quick kiss to it, lips warm on his skin. He stays there, just breathing and thinking, brushing his fingers over wherever his hands are on Kurt. “. . did it hurt for you?”

They’re in an entirely separate world, everything before them and everything not them nonexistent.

Kurt places his hand over Blaine’s, curls his fingers in tight, and says, “I don’t care enough to remember it now.”

“Right,” Blaine sighs, nodding shakily. “Sorry - I’m sorry. Lets not talk about it.”

His mouth hooks into a smile, a grin, a symbol that Blaine’s pressed a button that Kurt wasn’t even aware he had - “Talk about what?” he teases.

Blaine makes a noise, shocked and appalled and delighted, before leaning completely over Kurt to connect their lips, meeting him in a kiss that unravels everything, but begins something else.

It’s nothing like last time.

Whatever last time was. Strange hands and strange places. It’s nothing like that.

But it’s not like any time he’s ever done anything with Blaine before, either.

Accidental and full of regret but igniting something that was always there - on purpose because Kurt was finally realizing what exactly was always there - to block out pain because pain was all they felt.

Blaine is careful, touching him in soft passes, maybe because he doesn’t fully know what he’s doing, or maybe it’s so he doesn’t scare Kurt away.

But he’s touching him like that to be closer, because they can be closer and Kurt wants nothing more than to do just that. Because there’s nothing pulling them apart now, and everything keeping them together.

He likes how it feels. He thinks. Mostly he feels a tug in the pit of his stomach, closes his eyes and sees the bolts of electricity he feels when Blaine pushes in, because it’s _Blaine_ doing it.

Blaine touching him deeper, slow, gentle, breathing much calmer than Kurt as he kisses his shoulder and tries to control his movements -

He handles him like he’s glass, paper near open flame, building a twisting pressure inside of Kurt but still so careful - but Blaine’s breathing gets louder, hot over Kurt’s skin, and the control lining Blaine’s muscles breaks, he loses it, pushes into Kurt _harder_ and -

“ _Fuck_ -” Kurt whines, hands curling into the blanket tighter and snapping his hips upwards, stomach jolting.

Blaine reacts instantly, alert and cautious once more, taking his touch away from Kurt like another second would break him. Eyes wide and chest heaving, he yelps, “Bad - ? Did I -”

“No - no.”

Not bad, no. _Too good_. His blood is too hot underneath his skin, making him lightheaded and dizzy, hardly able to focus on the stars shooting through his mind.

“Are you sure?” Blaine still sounds panicked, his hands trembling, rattling like there’s something trapped inside of him.

“I’m good now, lets -” Kurt grits out, hauling himself up, catching the corner of Blaine’s mouth in a kiss like it’s second nature by now to just lean forward and do it -

They’re not in a hurry. It feels like that, with how blazing want is between them, but Kurt can wait a little longer.

Blaine’s stuck between kissing Kurt and concentrating on opening the condom, groaning in frustration and breaking their kiss when his fingers slip again.

Kurt takes it, opens it with ease, and it’s so incredibly amazing how nerves can be so quickly melted away and replaced with desire, want - and he presses his lips to Blaine’s, leans forward until Blaine falls back onto the bed.

“Like this?” Blaine asks, eyes curious and brow crooked.

Kurt has to bite his lip to mask his grin, nods and says, “You seem a little nervous.”

“I am not -” Blaine squeaks, mouth pulled into a pout. “I am not nervous!”

Kurt settles over him, Blaine’s hands still jittering as they curl around either side of Kurt’s waist, and Kurt leans down, smile fitting smug against his lips, and whispers, “We’ll see.”

They settle, they breathe, and Blaine’s chest feels like concrete under Kurt’s hands, heartbeat still strong enough to hammer through.

They connect, they touch, they exist together in a way that Kurt only wants to with Blaine, and every time he opens his eyes and sees Blaine underneath him it’s another wave of overwhelming pleasure because -

Whatever experience Kurt had before, with his eyes closed and his breathing purposely cut off, every brain cell trying to combust just so he wouldn’t have to be there -

He can’t believe it’s the same thing as this.

But this is Blaine.

So it isn’t.

Blaine isn’t just a person or a body or a someone he has feelings for, he’s warm hands on Kurt’s waist, holding him and moving with Kurt as he rocks himself down, and Blaine is exactly what Kurt needs to fall down on if he ever needs to fall.

Taking the leap and landing, and nothing shakes or breaks or shatters.

Blaine’s mixing into the pattern, moving upwards when Kurt moves downwards, using his body to meet Kurt’s, adding fuel to the fire, adding steel to the weight of pressure.

Overwhelmed for a moment, feeling too much, always shifting and changing inside of him, Kurt drops down and lets his chest press to Blaine’s, breathes out heavily into his neck because he’s lost the ability to move his muscles, just lets Blaine give -

“Not nervous, see?” Blaine's hands slip from their spot and move downwards, more controlled and confident as he holds Kurt open like that - curled up against Blaine, too weak and too overwhelmed to do anything but whine, he finds the sensibility to know that he doesn’t care, he doesn’t need control here. “Is this - good?” Blaine whispers, afraid and unsure close to Kurt’s ear. “Do you like this?”

There’s something he wants to say, slipping further from his mind every time he reaches out, but by time it’s gone he remembers that Blaine just asked a question that he already has the answer to.

“I - _yeah_ \- yes.”

With stronger hands than Kurt has right now, Blaine flips them over, a surge of control thrumming through his once shaking fingers.

He moves like he’s figuring it out, pushing into him and holding Kurt’s legs and Kurt thinks, in the back of his clouded mind, that it’s never been like this, and maybe he should be a little scared.

Never been unlocked, taken apart and laid out flat.

Blaine’s thrusts are offbeat, shaky, slow, but they create sparks. Hot silver-gold, glinting off his bones. Pieces of himself that he once held onto so tightly, peeling pack and evaporating -

Not able to breathe, finding that he really doesn’t need to.

His eyes are closed but the message is sent sprawling over his skin; Blaine’s gaining rhythm, knows because Blaine’s grip tightens on his legs and he moves quicker, learning with every push into Kurt’s body what feels good for both of them.

He thought before that when two people did this, they’d take from each other. Steal emotions and thoughts, pieces that didn’t belong to them, all for their own benefit.

Blaine’s already got everything Kurt could give.

His body is shoved up the bed, mind ripped out of his hazy, messy thoughts and pulled back into the world, sound and colour coming back in clear. His breathing is frantic and loud, whining for Blaine and he hadn’t even realized -

He hears Blaine - groaning and gasping and panting, arms shaking as he drops Kurt’s legs and leans forward, pushing Kurt’s body up.

_He’s never even done this._

Blaine’s hips are stuttering, pressing in deep and stilling as he vibrates, breathing fast and frantic.

“This is - hard -” Blaine grits out between his teeth, smile fading in and out.

Kurt tilts his chin up, closes his eyes and sighs out, “Yeah -”

“I’m trying not to - you know -”

Blaine jerks weakly and Kurt closes his eyes hard, and his throat is tight and his voice has been torn apart but he’s able to say, “I won’t make fun of you if you do.”

Blaine exhales hard, shutting his eyes. “Promise?”

He’s being strung tight, wound up, the _when_ and _how_ he snaps completely up to Blaine.

“I - I can’t do that,” Kurt breathes, smiling hard even though his muscles have all quit on him.

Blaine drops his head, laughs and whines, “I really - _I hate you_ -”

He collects it all, remembers how every jolt of Blaine feels because he can’t let go of something stamped into his mind. Remembers it all because time is running out, and they kiss each other just barely, hardly a brush of lips before it all comes apart -

Minds blank, space is black. Every star is gone, washed away.

When they come down, when the stars fade back in -

They’re sparkling bright.

Maybe brighter than before. Constellations he hasn’t seen before, planets that were far away suddenly so much closer -

Different.

Rearranged.

They both laugh breathlessly, like oxygen really is fleeting. Touching each other, pressing lost and searching kisses to wherever they can reach, eyes wild because they can’t hold the colours that they’re feeling.

Rearranged like something big has shifted. Rearranged like they weren’t rearranged at all.

He’s known all along that he loves Blaine. Known all along that there are billions upon billions of stars, galaxies and galaxies and other edges of other universes.

He knew.

But now -

He sees.

-

Kurt thinks.

He thinks that out of every person on earth, out of all those hands that have shoved him, hurt him, held him wrong - and he still found Blaine, then he must be going somewhere right.

Travelling down some sort of path which might be leading somewhere good.

Kurt thinks.

Because before, there was no path. Kurt was going nowhere. And for a while, that was the fate he happily accepted.

Now he has one, and he knows, just as he’s been hearing and telling, that he can have any. He can go, he can do . . .

It’s kind of amazing. You remember that you’re braver than fear, fear of an variety, and suddenly - suddenly it doesn’t matter how long that path is, if it gets confusing along the way, if it’s the wrong direction and you’ll have to turn around.

Just knowing that he can go, he can go _somewhere_.

Right now, after so long of being lost, just knowing that he can . . it’s more than enough.

He’ll go _somewhere_ -

And he doesn’t have to let go.

“I almost expected you to be gone.” Blaine’s words are slowed, tired, quiet but still a shock of sound in a silent, silent world.

Kurt’s been awake for what must be centuries, curled next to Blaine, waiting for him to wake up, and he jolts his head up to meet his eyes.

It takes a second before the stab of hurt pushes through his chest, blinking quickly at Blaine before he snaps, softly, “I wouldn’t do that.”

Blaine quickly shakes his head, smile waking up with the rest of him, and he leans forward, curls his hands into Kurt’s hoodie and pulls him closer.

“No, I mean - like maybe I dreamt it.”

It takes a second for Blaine’s words to settle, and then Kurt’s scowl drops, hurt fades away and mends over quickly. “Oh.”

Blaine grins, nuzzling closer until their lips are nearly brushing, and he says, “I think I prefer being awake now.”

They both know what it’s like to never want to wake up, to sleep forever. Because dreams shake up reality and make you think things are better than they are -

Kurt says back, “Me too.”

Things were okay. Things were better. Things are -

“But I did have a dream where I made up a song about you,” Blaine muses, rolling onto his back and sighing happily at the ceiling.

“Oh no,” Kurt groans, pushing away from him, but Blaine holds onto him and he falls back. “It was disco too, wasn’t it?”

“It certainly was,” Blaine sighs, sitting up and threading his fingers through Kurt’s. “Although it didn’t have many words.”

“Then how do you know it was even about me?”

“Because I just do.”

Realistically, he did know about this one path. Of course he did. Because he could have run in the opposite direction, could have jumped off or stopped moving - but he made the choice to move forward.

A choice he didn’t even realize he made until he looked back and saw just how far he’s come.

“ _Sure_ ,” Kurt drawls, grinning, squeezing Blaine’s hand and swinging it a little.

“You know why?” Blaine asks, and his eyes sparkle like he’s looking at the sky - but he’s looking right at Kurt. “Because it did have a chorus.”

“Oh yeah?” he whispers, throat catching, feeling every fibre he’s made of being shifted. “Do I even want to know how it went?”

His eyes fixate on the spread of Blaine’s lips, how his smile starts slow and soft and then grows with the dawn - “Something along the lines of, ‘my love for you shines brighter than the sun.’”

Kurt was lined with strings, and Blaine was just meant to pull them - meant to say words that Kurt was meant to hear.

His laugh comes out in a squeak, his nose scrunches up and he bumps his shoulder into Blaine’s and he can’t contain a single buzzing atom in his body as he asks, “Are you sure it wasn’t about Pokémon - ?”

Shaking his head, pressing his forehead to Kurt’s, Blaine sighs out, like he’s been harbouring a secret for a thousand years, “No, Kurt. It’s you.”

Kissing again, kissing now, it’s _him_ and it’s _Blaine_ , and he should have known since their first kiss -

Or maybe he has.

The world tilts further to the side, stars and planets fly by, colours whirl together and become more vibrant, brighter, more visible - and he thinks they’ll never fade. Held in his heart, they _can’t_ -

Because that’s the thing about the sun. It’s always shining.

**Author's Note:**

> This started out as an innocent drabble that I thought up one day while I was at the carnival. I had no idea it would turn into this, had no idea how much I needed to write it. It became something else entirely, and I'm so thankful for everyone who's stuck along and finished it with me. 
> 
> I did have plans for a sequel of sorts, months ago when I was under the illusion that I had time to write multiple multi-chaptered fics. One day, hopefully, if anyone is ever interested. Thank you again. I can't believe it's over.


End file.
